


Snake eyes

by Ineffable_stuff



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Aziraphale is definitely gay, Best Friends, College, Crowley (Good Omens) has ADHD, First Kiss, First Love, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Angst, M/M, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Power Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Sharing a Bed, Then we have puberty, and all that comes with it, crowley is a power bottom sorry, first time pretty much everything, there's no option, they start as children, yo adhd people will know what I'm talking about
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2020-09-28 04:23:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 82,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20419850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ineffable_stuff/pseuds/Ineffable_stuff
Summary: Crowley is a difficult kid. His parents are losing their heads trying to control their child, so they take him to spend the summer with some old friends in their farm. He meets their younger son, Aziraphale, whose name he can't even pronounce, and no summer was ever boring again.





	1. Blue Blanket

Mr. and Mrs. Crowley were great parents, really. They tried their best. Mrs. Crowley had even bought a book called  _ Dealing with troubled kids: is it my fault? _ Because apparently, the thesis was that  _ it wasn’t her fault,  _ and she really needed to hear that from anyone. Anthony was just one of these kids who hate everything and any toy becomes boring after an afternoon. He’d also break all those toys and reassemble them by mixing parts, which got him the nickname of “Little Frankenstein” in the family. He was five when he first canalized that energy into pushing some other kid.

Enough is enough, Mr. Crowley thought. Something had to be done. So they put Crowley in a car and decided to go to the countryside to visit some friends. They lived in a farm and had a kid about Anthony’s age. The plan was that a calming environment with lots of places to run would consume his energy and maybe teach him to control himself.

They almost gave up at least twice during the two hour drive. Anthony wouldn’t stop complaining and crying in the back seat. He wanted to put his head out of the window, then he tried to get rid of the seat belt, and when he couldn’t, he threw his bottle of juice, which hit the radio and fell all over the dashboard of the car.

When they arrived, Anthony was no longer held by the seat belt. Mr. and Mrs. Crowley had no idea of how, but the five year old opened the door as soon as the car stopped and started running through the field towards the cattle. If it weren’t for his tiny legs, he’d actually have reached the cows, but Mr. Crowley reached him first.

“But I want to see the moo-moo,” the boy complained.

“Later you can see the moo-moo, Anthony. No running away.”

The house was big and modern. It had many glass walls and most of its structure was wood. It didn’t really fit the ‘farm’ concept, except for the small chapel in the back. Clearly, the chapel was already there when the house was build. It was already old enough for the repairs to be evident and the wood to be giving in to the wind and the rain.

Anthony was carried against his will to the front door. They rang the doorbell and were quickly welcomed by their friends.

“Dolores! You actually came, we’re so happy to see you! And your little boy, look how big he is!”

Mrs. Eaven was a gorgeous woman. Time really had only made her even prettier than she was in college. She was wearing a white dress with black dots, very tight around the waist, showing that having kids didn’t affect her body. No dark eyes, no wrinkles. No sign that she had spent nights awaken looking after her kids. And she had two. Mrs. Crowley couldn’t even imagine the possibility of having a second one. Anthony had to count for at least five.

“Thank you so much for inviting us, Anna,” said Mrs. Crowley, sounding like Mrs. Eaven had actually saved her life.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” said Mr. Eaven, a tall, elegant bloke from Central London, who had obviously adjusted very well to the life in the countryside, given the smile wrinkles on his cheek, “come inside. I have a very good whiskey for the occasion.”

“Oh, the luggage,” said Mr. Crowley, moving to let his wife carry Anthony.

“Gabriel will help you with that,” said Mr. Eaven, turning back to call his elder son, “Gabriel, love, come help Mr. Crowley with his luggage.”

The boy, around the age of 12, came downstairs.

“Yes, father.”

His hair was perfectly cut - unlike Anthony’s (and who can keep him still to cut his hair?) and he was smiling as he obeyed his father’s order.

“Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Crowley. It’s a pleasure to meet you. My parents always talk about you. Please, our house is your house,” said the boy, very proud of himself. His mother caressed his hair and he ran past them to the car.

“It’s very nice of him, but the luggage is heavy,” said Mr. Crowley.

“Oh, don’t worry, Gabriel deals with the cattle since he was 8. He can handle it. Come on, let’s sit. Anthony is probably hungry, isn’t he? We were preparing Aziraphale’s morning snack, so they can eat together,” suggested Mrs. Eaven.

The decoration of the house was nothing short of marvelous. Each piece of mobilia seemed to have been built for the exactly place it was. The floor was impeccably clean. The house plants were all healthy and cared for. Compared to the Crowley’s house, this was heaven. How Anna manages to keep everything like that with two kids to look after was beyond her imagination. All over the walls and the furniture there were religious objects. Crosses, paintings, little statues of angels. They seemed to get the little boy’s attention.

They sat down on the sofa. Anthony was hiding his face on his mother’s chest, clearly irritated with the presence of the others.

“So how is London?” asked Mr. Eaven, opening his cabinet of drinks. He took a bottle of whiskey from a shelf and poured it into three glasses. One for each of them, skipping his wife.

“You know, smoky, foggy, probably raining,” said Mr. Crowley.

Gabriel passed behind them with two bags, rushing upstairs.

“Yes, that’s London,” Mr. Eaven giggled, taking a sip of his own whiskey.

“Mummy, can I drink?” Anthony asked, seeing the clear liquid.

“No, that’s for the adults, Anthony,” Mrs. Crowley said.

Anna promptly stood up, fixing her dress.

“Of course he’s thirsty, it’s a long drive from London,” she smiled. As soon as Gabriel came downstairs again, she took him by the hand. “Gabriel, my love, be a good boy and give your brother and Anthony their morning snack, yes?”

Mr. and Mrs. Crowley looked at each other. So the plan here was let a 12 years old look after two five year old? And one of them being Anthony?

“Please, we don’t want to give you any trouble, I’ll help with the food,” offered Mrs. Crowley.

“No, no, no,” she held Dolores’s shoulders when she tried to stand up, “you two need to rest, it’s okay. Gabriel is great with children. And his scrambled eggs are actually better than mine.”

Gabriel went back upstairs to go get his brother. He came back with the blonde boy wrapped around his neck, holding a tiny blue blanket that he refused to let go. He was obviously sleeping until then. With one child holding onto him, Gabriel extended his hand to Anthony.

“Come, Anthony. It’s okay.”

Anthony looked up at the other, but his eyes laid on the other five year old. He was resting his head on his brother’s shoulder, looking safe and sleepy. Like a child is when they are with their parents. The blonde kid looked back at him and squeezed his tiny blanket a little more.

“Say hi to Anthony, Aziraphale,” said Anna.

“Hi Anthony,” the boy whispered.

“Say hi to Aziraphale,” Mrs. Crowley ordered.

“Hi, Azi-ra-azi-fael.”

Aziraphale giggled with the other’s attempt to say his name.

“Azi-Azira-Azzzz,” the boy tried again, making the blonde laugh even more, “Fael. Fafael. Azifael.”

Aziraphale giggled and laughed. The sound was cute, innocent, and filled the house with joy. Dolores was concerned about the situation, until she noticed that Crowley was smiling as he kept trying to pronounce that name. He was making it on purpose to make Aziraphale laugh. As it became clear, all the others also laughed along with the two children. Happy with himself. Anthony got off his mother’s lap and took Gabriel’s hand to be guided towards the kitchen.

“Can I see the moo-moo later, uncle Gabriel?” Anthony asked, being put in a booster seat.

“Cow,” corrected Aziraphale, already placed in his own seat.

“It’s a moo-moo,” Anthony insisted.

“The cow says moo-moo,” the blonde explained.

“You can see the cow later, Anthony. Aziraphale will show you around the farm, okay?”

The boy took some eggs and butter to make them scrambled eggs. The time to prepare a meal like that was more than enough for Anthony to get bored and start finding ways to get rid of the booster seat. But the other child was right next to him, so it was his first alternative while Gabriel worked.

“How do you say your name?” Anthony asked.

“Aziraphale,” said the blonde one, “A-zi-ra-fell.”

“A-shi-ra-fell,” Anthony repeated.

“Noooo,” he giggled, “A-zi-ra-fell.”

“Angel,” Anthony decided.

In the living room there was a painting with several little cherubs. They had blonde hair and blue eyes, like Aziraphale. So the child looked a lot like one of them. In Anthony’s head, he actually was. There wasn’t much logic to they way he was thinking. The painting seemed to have been made to look like Aziraphale, so he had to be one of those angels. And angel was an easier word.

“I’m not an angel,” the child protested, “I don’t have wings,” he reminded him, waving his hands like little wings.

“You don’t have to have wings,” Anthony replied, with a certainty in his voice that sounded like he knew exactly what he was talking about.

Gabriel turned with the plates. He placed one in front of Anthony and the other in front of his brother.

“You’re mum’s little angel, baby brother.”

Aziraphale looked up at Gabriel like he had just said the most amazing thing in the world and everything made sense. He didn’t protest anymore on the information that he was an angel. In fact, the child seemed to be dealing with the new knowledge.

“Mum won’t let me take my blanket to the table,” Anthony pointed out, starting to eat.

The blue blanket was safely resting on the child’s lap, protected from any accident with the food that might get it stained or dirty.

“The blanket protects me,” he explained. “Mummy did it for me to protect me from the monsters.”

“A blanket can’t protect you from the monsters,” Anthony scoffed.

“This one can,” Aziraphale insisted, “because mummy did it to protect me.”

“There are no monsters at the table,” Anthony reminded him.

“See? The blanket protects us.”

There was absolutely no flaw in that logic. Well, not to Anthony’s head. He nodded, surprised with the power of that blanket, and continued to eat.

It was likely the first meal in a while that Anthony did not throw the spoon away or flipped the plate. Not because he wouldn’t do that, but he was quite distracted with the fact that Aziraphale was an angel with a magic blanket. So before he could get bored with that information, the food was over and Gabriel was pulling them both from their seats.

“You wanna see the cows now?” the elder brother asked.

Anthony nodded.

“Aziraphale, go show your friend the place.”

Aziraphale took Anthony’s tiny hand and pulled him through the kitchen and out of the backyard door, excited. The blanket was still in his other hand. The red haired boy, however, looked behind when they left the house. He was never away from his mother and being alone in a strange place made him scared.

“Mummy is not gonna like that I’m here,” he told Aziraphale while still running over the grass towards the shed.

“Why not?”

“She doesn’t like when I’m not with her,” he explained.

“So you’re with her all the time?”

Anthony didn’t want to give a wrong answer, so he stopped to think about the question.

“Hmm, no,” he answered, “I’m not with mummy when I’m at school, but the teacher is with me.”

“It’s to protect us,” Aziraphale explained, finally stopping in front of the shed, “from the monsters. Adults won’t leave children alone because monsters can appear.”

Anthony widened his eyes in fear.

“But don’t worry,” said Aziraphale, “because I’ve got the blanket, remember?”

Anthony pursed his lips, but nodded. He was safe, there would be no monsters.

Aziraphale pushed the door of the shed with his whole body. The rusted hinges resisted the movement but eventually gave in. It smelled weird inside, with a mix of cereals and animal fur. The blonde boy picked a bucket, resting the blanket on his shoulder, and walked out of the shed.

“This is cow food,” he explained, “but cows also eat the grass. But they like this thing more.”

Anthony nodded at the new information and followed the other to the fence. The cows, already knowing that the bucket meant food, started to slowly approach the two.

“Why are they chewing already? Were they eating grass?” Anthony asked.

“Mummy said they eat the same food several times.”

“Eeeew” Anthony frowned.

“I know, it’s gross.” He put the bucket down and collected a handful of ration. The nearest cow stretched her neck to lick the boy’s hand. “You have to keep your hand still so they don’t bite.”

“They bite?”

“Not if you keep your hand still,” he insisted.

Anthony did the same as Aziraphale and offered the ration to another cow. The animal was huge up close. She smelled the boy’s hand with that wet snout, making him shiver. Then her big tongue licked the ration all at once. Crowley cringed and cleaned his hand on his trousers.

“That’s so weird!”

Aziraphale giggled and pushed the bucket to allow them to eat from it.

“Wanna see the chickens?”

Anthony nodded, still rubbing his hand on the jeans.

Aziraphale went back to the shed to collect some corn and came back with two plastic bags filled with it. He handed one to Anthony and the other he kept for himself.

“Follow me,” he said, rushing to the hen house.

The noise in there was very loud and the smell was even worse than in the shed. Upon seeing the boys, the chicken went nuts. They all ran away together, like a single organism, and came back together as well, when they saw the corn. It was mesmerizing how they moved coordinately to hide or protect each other.

“These don’t bite, but the beak can hurt you,” Aziraphale explained, opening the fence to enter. The chickens all grouped around him for corn.

Anthony followed him inside, frowning at the smell. They were more aware of him, so they didn’t immediately surrounded the boy. And they completely ignored him when Aziraphale started to throw corn on the floor. They even flapped their wings trying to jump over each other to reach the corn that he was tossing them. He emptied the bag giggling while they were clucking for more corn. They only turned towards Anthony once all the food was gone and the only corn left was in his bag. Those hens then turned to him, again working like a single organism, and surrounded the red haired boy.

All those chickens moving towards him made him instantly scared. He pouted and started running away from them, which only made them run after him.

“It’s okay, Anthony. They want the corn,” said Aziraphale.

But it was useless. Anthony was already crying and running from a mass of hungry chickens.

Aziraphale rushed to the other and took the bag of corn from his hand.

“Take the blanket,” the blonde one said, handing it to him.

The chicken immediately forgot Anthony to follow Aziraphale instead. The red haired continued to cry, holding the blanket tightly against his chest. He watched the other throwing the corn and calming down the chicken and used the opportunity to leave the hen house and sit down on the grass, sobbing.

When the corn ended, Aziraphale left as well and sat with Anthony, who was still holding the blanket, scared.

“They are monsters,” he complained.

“They are chickens,” Aziraphale corrected.

“But they seem like monsters.”

“And the blanket protected you,” he pointed out.

Anthony nodded and hid his face on the blue blanket, wiping his tears on it.

“You too protected me. Angels protect little boys too.”

“Maybe they do,” he agreed, moving closer to him.

“Anthony!”

The voice came from the house. It sounded half angry and half worried. The two kids looked back to see that Mrs. Crowley was yelling and running to them while Aziraphale’s parents calmly walked.

“It’s okay, mummy,” the boy said, lifting the blanket, “see? The blanket protected me.”

“Did you hurt Aziraphale?” she asked, “And that blanket is not yours, give it back now.”

Anthony pouted and shook his head.

“I didn’t hurt anyone,” he promised.

“Give back his blanket, Anthony. Now.”

“But the blanket is protecting me,” he complained, starting to cry again.

“ _ Now,  _ Anthony Crowley.”

“He can keep the blanket, Mrs. Crowley.”

“Oh, my sweetheart, you’re very nice, but it’s not correct, it’s your blanket. Your mum said you never let go of it.”

“But he needs it more than me now. He’s scared. He can keep the blanket, Mrs. Crowley. I gave it to him.”

“You gave it to him?” she asked, surprised.

Aziraphale nodded.

“He didn’t take it from you?” she rephrased it.

“No, he was scared, so I gave it to him. He can have it. Mummy can make me another one.”

Mrs. Crowley looked her son in the eyes, trying to pick up some clue that they were lying, but she only found the watered eyes of a scared child, so she didn’t insist on it anymore.

“You better go play inside. It’s dangerous out here.”

Both of them nodded and ran back to the house. On the way in, Aziraphale asked his mum for another blanket, and then continued his way up to his bedroom.

They played the whole day until the night fell. It was one of those rare occasions when Anthony had spent his whole energy and was actually sleepy when bed time came. Mrs. Eaven bathed them both, getting rid of all the dirt they accumulated from playing together in the farm. Even Crowley’s hair was a bit opaque from the dust. The warm water in the bathtub only allowed them play in there for a few minutes before they yawned and his eyelids became heavy.

Mrs. Eaven dressed them with their pajamas and put them safely in bed. She’d normally tell Aziraphale a bed time story, but they were so tired and sleepy that it wasn’t necessary. They had lived incredible stories during the day. Mrs. Crowley also came in to kiss her son goodnight. They turned off the lights and left the room.

Anthony was used to sleep with the sound of cars passing by his window. Here, he could only hear crickets and cicadas. An eventual owl would make him shiver. So held his tiny blanket tightly, and when that wasn’t enough, his arms embraced Aziraphale to feel safe.

“Good night, Anthony,” said the blonde boy, half-way through a yawn.

“Good night, angel,” the other answered, tucked against his friend.

They spent the entire summer vacations in the farm, and that was, by far, the best summer for the entire Crowley family since the day Anthony was born. Which is why they kept coming back every summer and holidays. 


	2. Moby dick

Anthony was growing up fast. The boy was lean and tall for his age. Only two other kids were taller than him in his school, and they were both his friends in more advanced classes. This became helpful when he got nicknamed “snake eyes” because of the yellowish shade of brown they had. It seemed like they had forgotten “little Frankenstein” for a while. He didn’t like any of these names, but the teachers also didn’t like Anthony, so he couldn’t count on them to make it stop. He had to count on the fact that they feared him. But now he didn’t even have that card on his sleeve, since he had been harmless the entire year.

He was eight when his parents promised they’d send him to the Eaven’s farm by himself only if he was a good boy. No incidents at school, no bad grades. And he actually managed to keep that promise for the entire semester. This was the last day. His bags were ready at home, waiting for him. The driver would take him to the farm by the morning. He only had to get past today and he’d see Aziraphale again tomorrow before lunch. Last summer Gabriel took them to a waterfall that was about 40 minutes walking from the farm, and this year their mother said that Anthony and Aziraphale could go there alone, so he was excited to play pirates with his best friend.

He was doing fine. Happy, anxious, always unquiet, moving his leg, looking at the clock, counting the minutes, getting bored but controlling himself not to act on it. The teacher had asked them to make a drawing of how they hoped their vacations would be. Anthony drew him and Aziraphale in the lake with the waterfall. They were dressed as pirates, smiling. He’d take the drawing with him to give it to Aziraphale. But he finished the drawing too soon, and was already looking elsewhere to find something to do. After the teacher called him out for chatting with another kid, he thought it was better to ask to go to the bathroom before the warning became an incident and his semester-long history of perfect behavior was ruined.

Anthony went to the bathroom, washed his face, frowned at his eyes, deciding that he hated them, played with the soap, drew a happy face on the mirror, then cleaned it (just in case), left the bathroom, drank some water and came back to the classroom.

When he entered, the other kids were giggling. He looked at the teacher, who was mindlessly reading something on her desk. Something was up, he knew it. He approached his table, looking around to check if there was gum on his seat or anything of the sort. They kept chuckling, covering their mouths, looking away when he faced them.

And then he saw his drawing. The little stick-man that represented Anthony was scrawled with yellow crayon over the eyes, with a thin line in black, forming snake eyes. The rest of his body was also scrawled to make him longer. There was a text obviously written in a rush pointing at Aziraphale saying “imaginary friend”.

“Who did this?” he asked, loud and clear.

The teacher lifted her head.

“Crowley, sit down.”

“Someone ruined my drawing,” he accused.

She walked over to him to see the drawing. Upon seeing that it was true, she turned to the class.

“Now that’s a terrible thing to do with your friend,” she said, folding her arms, “and you all should apologize.”

“I was going to give it to my friend! Apologies won’t un-ruin the drawing!”

“You should give an imaginary drawing to your imaginary angel friend” Gary laughed and was followed by the rest of the class.

Anthony clenched his fists. It always happened like this. Before he knew, Gary had a black eye and the class was yelling around him while the teacher tried to contain both of them. He always thought how weird it was that time seemed to stop when he was bored, and the minutes felt like years, but then, suddenly, the time between being angry at Gary and being held back from hitting him seemed too fast to follow. He didn’t remember very well hitting him or even deciding to do so. But it was done. The boy was crying, Anthony was being yelled at by the teacher, and the headmaster was being called.

“I can’t believe you disappointed me again,” said Mrs. Crowley in the car.

It was only midday. School was supposed to end at three. But he was already being taken home.

“You’re lucky this is the last day of school, you were going to be suspended,” his mother continued.

Anthony said nothing. He had tears in his eyes, but wouldn’t let them fall. His teeth were gritted, his jaw clenched and aching.

“They said the Angel is imaginary,” he blurted out.

When you speak, it gets harder to control the tears, he found out, wiping the first one quickly after it escaped his tearful eyes.

“But you  _ know  _ he isn’t, so why did you get angry?”

“They also call me snake-eye! They ruined the drawing I did to Angel! I was going to give it to him!”

“Well, you’re not giving it to him anyway, since you’re not going to the Eavens this summer.”

Anthony’s eyes widened and his anger became despair in a second. He released himself from the seatbelt and moved between the front car seats.

“You can’t do this! I was good the whole semester! I did everything you told me to!”

“I told you no incidents. What do you call this? You punched another kid’s eye. A smaller kid. His parents are taking him to the doctor. You could’ve broken his nose.”

“All kids are smaller than me!” he protested.

“Which is why you shouldn’t hit  _ any _ kid.

“But they were laughing at me!”

“You should talk to an adult when they do something you don’t like,” his mother insisted, “and go back to your seat! I swear to you, Anthony Crowley, if I get a fine because you’re standing in the car, you’re not coming back to the Eavens for the rest of your life.”

Anthony sat back and put the seatbelt on again. His lower lip was shaking and he no longer tried to stop the tears.

“I told the t-teacher,” he sobbed.

“And then you hit Gary. What does it matter? You hit him, Anthony. You’re not going to the Eavens.”

Time was going to pass very slowly that summer.

When he arrived home, his father hadn’t arrived from work. So Anthony hid himself in his office, where he could tuck himself underneath the desk. It had a small space below the drawers where Anthony was starting to get too big to fit. But with a bit of effort, he could still sit there with his feet hanging out. He cried for a while in the silence of the room. And alone in there, he decided that he wasn’t going to stay home the whole summer.

His mother wouldn’t wake up before 7 am. His father would go to work at 6 am. So that left him an hour to do what he planned.

He woke up at 5:40 am, but didn’t get off the bed. He stayed there, still sleepy, but hearing as his father made himself coffee. He waited for the sound of keys, the door opening and closing, and then silence.

He stood up. Quickly and careful with sounds, he changed his clothes, took his bag and carefully tiptoed downstairs with it. He left it near the door and went to his mother’s bathroom, where he knew he’d find her purse with the wallet inside. With just enough money, he went back to the door. After taking the spare key that was hidden under a carpet, he left home to take a bus to Waterloo Station.

The eight year old with a bag should call more attention. But Anthony looked older than he actually was, given his height. He also looked very confident, like the type of person you just don’t suspect a thing. Buying the tickets was easy. He pretended to read on a paper what some imaginary mother had written.

“Hello Mr or Mrs,” Anthony started, reading very slowly, pausing at each word. He looked up at the man selling the tickets and back to the note in his hand, “I mean, Mr. I suppose. I would like a ticket to Neeeew Forest. Hamp-Haaaamp...Hamp-shire. For my mother, please. Thank you very much. Give him or her the money. Oh! I wasn’t supposed to read that. Don’t tell mum.” He put the money on the counter and gave the man a smile.

The man didn’t even think twice before giving that sweet child a ticket. And Anthony didn’t think twice before entering the train. He knew that children traveling alone should be at least 12 years old and should have a permit from their parents. But the guy inside the train wouldn’t ask for that. It was the job of the man selling the tickets, not the man checking the tickets. So they’d just assume he had 12 years old (he was tall after all) and that he had gone through that bureaucracy when buying the ticket.

The only bad side so far was the one hour long journey. Anthony walked all over the train, bought chocolates and candies, drank soda, and when he was bored of doing that, he still had forty minutes of staying still.

How do adults do this? Staying still. Anthony hated it.

Luckily he was still sleepy from waking up early, so he managed to sleep for twenty minutes. With his time left, he made another drawing for Aziraphale. It was almost a replica of his first one.

In New Forest, Anthony would have to find a way to reach the farm. He got off in the station with no plan of how to get there. He tried a cab, but he didn’t have enough money, and the driver didn’t seem keen on helping the eight year old. He sat down to think and looked at the clock. It was 8 am. His mother had obviously awaken. He wondered if she had already noticed he was gone and how worried she was. Probably not much. She’d start worrying after lunch, when he doesn’t come back to eat. Then, she’d call his friends. He had at least five or six hours before his mother goes nuts and starts calling the cops.

The cops! Of course.

Anthony got off the bench and walked to a police officer that was helping an old lady.

“Excuse me, sir. My parents were supposed to pick me up an hour ago. But I think they forgot me. I’m lost, can you help me?”

The cop knelt down to be at approximately the same height as the child, but ended up a bit shorter, looking up at him.

“Do you have their number, kid?”

Anthony shook his head.

“Do you know where your house is?”

He nodded.

“Wait here, I’m gonna see if I can find someone to take you there, okay?”

Anthony smiled, nodding with enthusiasm.

“Thank you very much, sir. Mum always says I can trust the cops and that you’ll always help us.”

The man stood up, proud.

“Your mother is right, little fella.”

The man used his communicator to ask if anyone was available to help a little child. Anthony waited bouncing his left foot. After a bit of conversation (he couldn’t quite understand what the other voice was saying, the sound was terrible) the cop told him that someone was coming and would be there to take him home in an instant.

It was a woman who drove the police car that stopped in front of them. Her brown hair was tied up in a ponytail.

“What is your name, son?” the man asked.

“Anthony,” he answered.

“Well, Anthony, my friend Julia is going to take you home. Your parents shouldn’t forget you anywhere. You’re a good kid.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The cop helped him with his bag, putting it in the backseat after the child had crawled in. The man also put the seatbelt on him and gave him a warm smile.

“Ready to ride a police car, young man?” Julia asked, looking at him through the mirror.

The door was closed. Anthony smirked.

“I’m ready, Ms. Julia.”

They took off. Anthony admired the view outside, with the houses that looked like the suburban areas of London. Not many tall buildings, only narrow streets, old people walking here and there. But the farm was distant, out of the city. Anthony knew exactly the way there, even if he couldn’t give her the address. The family would always go to the city to buy things and to have dinners, so he knew the way to go.

They stopped in front of the luxurious wood and glass house. Anthony’s heart was beating fast. He was almost there. It felt like a month had passed since he left home earlier that day, but he was finally here.

“Nice house, kid,” the officer Julia commented, getting off the car to help him out, “but I might need to talk to your parents about forgetting you at the station.”

Oh no. That was not good.

“Please don’t talk to them,” he begged, pouting. “They didn’t mean it, they are good to me.”

“Well, but I need to see them, I can’t just drop their kid in their front door. They’ll want to know you were safe,” she insisted, already walking towards the house with Anthony’s bag.

“There’s no need, Ms Julia, I don’t wanna bother you, I’m sure you have some bad guys to arrest,” he said, walking fast to follow her.

“Oh, no, my dear, don’t worry. This is part of the job.”

There was no stopping that woman. She didn’t even let him carry his bag. Julia was a good cop, clearly. If given a task, she’d complete the task. And her task at the moment was to make sure that Anthony was safe with his parents. So she rang the doorbell, absolutely unaware that the boy by her side was panicking and imagining all the terrible outcomes for this situation.

It was Mrs. Eaven who answered the door, but Aziraphale was right behind her. Upon seeing Anthony, the blonde boy rushed past his mother and jumped on his friend with a tight hug. That’s the nice part of being a child. You have a police officer at your door, but that’s irrelevant when your best friend is there with her. To Mrs. Eaven, however, the police officer was her main concern.

“Did something happen?” she asked.

Anthony quickly let go from Aziraphale to try and gain control of the situation again.

“You forgot to pick me up,” said Anthony, “but that’s okay.”

“Oh, did I? I didn’t know I had to pick you up, I thought you were coming with the driver,” Mrs. Eaven said, “I’m so sorry, my child. You had to ask the police officer to bring you here? My God,” she pinched the golden cross hanging on a necklace around her neck, “what a terrible host I am. Your mother must’ve mentioned and I forgot, my dear.”

“So you’re not his mother?” Julia asked.

That was pretty obvious, though. Anthony looked nothing like the Eavens. His hair was was bright red and his eyes were yellowish brown, while the Eavens all had blue eyes.

“Oh, no, I’m not,” Anna answered. “His parents are my friends,” she explained.

“Why did you say your parents forgot to pick you up, young man?” Julia asked.

Anthony’s head went crazy with ways to answer that. What should he say? Why didn’t he think this through and told the cop that his friend’s parents didn’t pick him up? Why did he lie about this? Now he had to come up with another lie.

“They forgot to tell Mrs. Eaven to pick me up,” he explained, hopping this would be the end of the questions. It was lame and weak, but why would they continue to doubt an eight year old? He was safe. It was okay. He just wanted to hug his friend and go play.

“That must be it,” said Anna. “I’m sorry to make you come all the way here. He’s gonna spend the summer with us, he’ll be fine.”

Anthony nodded enthusiastically.

The cop didn’t insist. The two boys were too eager to run away and play to stay there and wait for a better explanation. She saw no reason to make them more impatient, so she smiled and ruffled Anthony’s hair.

“Alright, be a good boy, Anthony. And if you need any help, don’t hesitate to talk to a cop, okay?”

Anthony nodded again.

“Can we go?” Aziraphale asked.

Mrs. Eaven eyed them for a second, then smiled.

“Of course you can.”

Anthony’s lips gained a huge smile and he grabbed Aziraphale’s hand to run away with him through the field, towards the back of the house. They both knew where the other was going. The path had been done several times. At the right moment, Anthony released Aziraphale’s hand so they could jump over a fence and continue to run. Past that small obstacle, Anthony sped up and outran his friend by a good distance. He stopped underneath an big old tree with a hole in the trunk, sweating and panting.

“I win,” said Anthony.

Aziraphale threw himself on the ground, arms open, laid on his back, regaining his breath.

“We’re not competing,” the blonde said.

“I win anyway,” he insisted, sitting by his side.

“You have longer legs,” Aziraphale pointed out.

Anthony chuckled. They were the same height till last summer. Now he was a bit taller than the blonde.

“You know, I almost couldn’t come,” he told him.

“Really? Why? And what was that with the cop?”

Anthony shrugged, as it if was no big deal. The truth was that he was proud of what he managed to do. With a smirk, he looked at his friend, lying by his side.

“Mum said I couldn’t come if I did something wrong. And I was good the whole semester. You know how I told you that the other kids call me names behind my back, right?”

Aziraphale nodded.

“They are scared of me because I’m tall and I have bigger friends,” he told him, picking up a small rock to play with it as he spoke, “and they also don’t believe you’re real.”

“Because you told them I was an actual angel,” Aziraphale chuckled.

“Shush,” he giggled, “I was six years old, they should’ve moved on from that.”

Anthony came back after the first summer telling all the other kids that he made friends with a real angel and that he had protected him from monsters who tried to kill him. He also showed everyone the blue blanket that protects you from evil. For a while it was well accepted. But kids grow up fast, and they realized that this couldn’t be true sort of at the same time that Anthony understood it as well. So when they called him a liar, he explained that Aziraphale was actually a boy, but the damage was done. No one believed he existed.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I was good the whole year, so they understood I couldn’t fight back anymore. And they took advantage of this,” he explained, “and started calling me names right at me, not behind my back anymore.”

“That’s mean,” Aziraphale commented, frowning.

“Isn’t it?” Anthony nearly shouted, opening his arms, “I said it was mean, but they didn’t hear. But I was good, I didn’t say anything, I told the teachers about the nicknames. I didn’t let my friends get revenge for me. But yesterday, the last day, Gary pissed me off for real.”

“Gary is the guy who called you snake eyes last year, isn’t he?” asked Aziraphale.

“Yes, he’s the one. I hate him so much. The teacher asked us to make a drawing about our vacations and I did us. I did it again in the train, it’s in my bag, you can have it. But he ruined the original drawing. He made my eyes yellow and wrote it that you were my imaginary friend. He ruined it!”

“Why would he do such a thing?”

“Because he’s mean,” Anthony explained, “and he hates me too.”

“So what did you do?”

“They were laughing at me. The whole class. I swear to you, Angel. They were all laughing. He said I should do an imaginary drawing for an imaginary friend. And I don’t know how I did it or why, but I punched his eye.”

Aziraphale sat up, tapping his back to clean his shirt from the leaves and the grass.

“You punched Gary?”

“Yes,” he said, lifting his shoulders and pouting a bit.

“Well, he had it coming,” Aziraphale claimed, “but you got yourself in trouble, and you shouldn’t do that.”

“But I don’t know how I did it!” Anthony complained, “Nobody understands. Sometimes I don’t control myself. I just do things. If I had any time to think about it, I wouldn’t hit him. Not because he didn’t deserve, but because I knew mum wouldn’t let me come here. And punching Gary is not worth it. I wanted to come. I wanted so hard. No one understands, Angel.”

Aziraphale put an arm around Anthony’s back and rested his chin on the other’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I believe you. I know you wouldn’t do it. But how did you convince your mother to let you come?”

“That’s where the trouble begins.”

Anthony told his friend how he planned all the way to New Forest, but not the part where he gets to his house. He told him how he bought the tickets, how the train ride was very boring, how he talked to the police officer and, proudly, he told him that he still had a couple of hours before his mother would start calling.

“Anthony!” Aziraphale exclaimed, shocked. “I can’t believe you ran away from home!”

“Neat, wasn’t it?” he smirked.

“Your mother is going to be  _ furious  _ when she finds out. She won’t let you stay the whole summer. She won’t let you come back  _ ever _ .”

Anthony pouted and threw the rock he was playing with.

“I’m gonna run away as many times as I need,” he claimed. “My mother doesn’t understand. She thinks I’m a bad kid. She never hears when I tell her about the nicknames. She asks what I did to them to make them hate me,” he muttered, hugging his legs against his chest.

“But you can’t keep running away. It won’t make your mother believe you.”

Anthony didn’t answer. He had nothing to say about that. He hadn’t planned what to do when he gets here, like he hadn’t planned past the train station. It would be unrealistic to expect that he knew what to do about his mother in the future.

“Can we talk about something else?” he asked, already having to fight back tears.

He didn’t see what face Aziraphale made, but the boy stood up and walked to the trunk of the tree. He pulled a wood boat from there and came back to sit by his side.

“Dad made this for when we go play pirates,” he told him. “We can go to the waterfall tomorrow morning.”

The boat drew a smile on the boy’s face. He released his legs and grabbed the toy, turning it around, seeing every detail of it.

“Can’t we go today?” he asked. He didn’t know if he would be here tomorrow. When his mother finds out, she’ll be there to pick him up in a couple hours.

“We won’t have time to play,” Aziraphale explained, “we have to be home before 6 pm.”

“Mum could come pick me up by 6 pm, Angel. Then I’ll have to wait till next summer. If she ever lets me come here again.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips, thinking.

“Okay. But we need to be home before 6. Or my mum will be mad too.”

“Your mum is never mad at anything,” Anthony pointed out, standing up. He tapped his clothes and began to walk with his friend.

“She’s mad about some things,” Aziraphale commented, “like when me and Gabriel fight. Or when I get bad grades. And when we miss dinner.”

“Have you ever gotten a bad grade?” Anthony chuckled.

“I once got an 8 in P.E,” he admitted, passing through the fence that delimited the farm, “but she said it was okay because it was P.E. But mum is cool. Dad is angry more often. Usually at mom.”

“So you got better grades in everything else?” he asked, surprised. His definition of good grades was getting an 8. It was the minimum required by his mother and the maximum he could achieve when it comes to anything containing numbers.

“Well, I really like the books that the teacher tells us to read. She says I read well. And Gabriel teaches me a little bit of Math, so when the teacher brings up the subject, I already know it.”

They found the trail that leads to the waterfall. There was an old painted sign indicating the way. The ink was being eaten out by the rain and the wood was moldy and crumbling to the touch. The place had been a tourist attraction for a while, but now it was forgotten and the only rare visitors were the locals.

“How’s that friend of yours?” Anthony asked, “You said his parents were going to move away.”

“Oscar? Yes, he left. To Paris. It’s been four months already. We communicate through letters, it’s nice.”

“Letters? You write him letters?” Anthony asked, surprised. Letters seemed too old to be something you do routinely nowadays. Especially for children. Only adults write letters, Anthony thought.

Aziraphale nodded, smiling.

“We do. Mum helps me write them and put them on the mail. We read his answer together. She says it’s good for me. Improved my communication skills or something. And I think it’s really nice. It’s like getting a gift from the mailman every once in a while.”

Anthony had no idea of what Oscar looked like. He knew he was a good friend of Aziraphale and that he liked to read too and that they were together in a play at school. The blonde had asked Anthony to watch as he rehearsed his part and later on asked him to do the part of Oscar so he could memorize their interactions as well. It was quite funny because Anthony had to read his lines every single time. He couldn’t memorize anything.

“Are you sad that he left?” Anthony asked.

Aziraphale shrugged.

“I was at first, because he was my best friend at school, but we keep in touch. And he said he’s happy, so I’m happy for him.”

Anthony nodded and remained quiet for about five minutes, which was quite an accomplishment.

“Do you like him more than me?” he finally blurted out, showing that his silence didn’t mean he was truly quiet, but that his mind was going through a million thoughts per second.

That question was the first proof that Anthony trusted Aziraphale more than himself. He was eight and had never learned anything about emotional intelligence. In fact, the boy’s impulsive behavior and the constant insistence that he needed to control himself had made him very dumb emotionally. Anger, sadness, or even too much happiness, were feelings he needed to lessen as much as possible and not express. That’s when accidents happen and kids get black eyes or when he gets sent to the headmaster for crying too much. And here, he was being honest. He was confessing his worry, his fear. And wanted the truth.

“Of course not!” Aziraphale said, immediately, without hesitation.

Anthony had taken a free fall of trust, and the other caught him midair. He could trust him.

“Are you sure?”

“Do you like Hastur more than me?” Aziraphale retorted.

“What? No!”

“Are you sure?”

Anthony gave him a playful frown and nudged him gently, making the other lean on a tree not to fall. Then, he started running ahead through the trail, jumping branches and rocks. He heard Aziraphale yelling, telling him to wait, but continued to run. The sound of the waterfall was already clear among the trees, and the path was easy. He felt free and happy. When he got past a sign that was fallen on the ground, covered in vegetation, he knew he was close, and started taking off his shirt, shoes and socks. He stopped at the border of the lake to drop his clothes and take off his trousers and pants, then jumped in the water, bracing his legs. Aziraphale arrived when Anthony emerged in the water.

“You seriously need to stop running like that,” panted Aziraphale.

“Hand me the boat,” Anthony asked.

The blonde put the boat in the water and pushed it towards Anthony. Only then he took off his clothes, careful to leave them where they wouldn’t get wet, folded perfectly in a pile. He entered the lake walking, testing the water and shivering at the cold.

“Look at me, I’m a sea monster,” said Anthony, submerging so that he had only his eyes out. He dived near the floating boat and emerged under it, making it spin and fill with water.

“Release the Kraken,” Aziraphale joked, chuckling.

“Release the what?”

“Oh, it’s a pirate story mum told me,” he explained. “The Kraken. Great big bugger,” he forced a deeper voice to make it dramatic, “ sleepeth beneath the thunders of the upper deep. Under loads of huge and unnumbered polypol — polipo — bloody great seaweeds”

“So the Kraken is a…”

“A squid,” Aziraphale finished, “full of tentacles. Grabs boats.”

“Hmm…” Anthony smiled and dived again, disappearing in the water. He swam towards his friend and, under the surface, tickled his stomach, making the other desperately try to swim away, giggling.

When he emerged again, he was laughing out loud along with his friend.

“I’m the kraken, I have many tentacles, I’m doing my job,” he explained, between his chuckles, waving his fingers at him.

“Yes? I’m moby dick. I sink boats by jumping on them,” he said, and jumped over Anthony, forcing him down in the water. He ended up sinking too, since the other moved away and he lost his support.

They emerged both laughing.

“Kraken attack!” Anthony yelled, and splashed water on Aziraphale.

“Moby Dick!” Aziraphale yelled back, returning the attack.

It seemed, to Anthony, that time began to fly. That every laugh they shared was lasting seconds, and the day around them was in a different speed, not giving them nearly enough time to play. They spent hours in the lake, however, and by 5pm Aziraphale knew they had to leave. The announcement made Anthony’s stomach spin. His mother could well be in the farm, waiting for him. Maybe with his father. While they sat out of the lake to dry off at least enough to put clothes on, he looked at his friend, his Angel, and the thought that his mother could never let him see him again made him lower his head and hide his face on his knees.

“You’re gonna catch a cold and we need to go back,” said Aziraphale, already putting his pants on. “Come on, Anthony.”

He looked up and nodded. But didn’t stand up yet.

“What if we run away?” he suggested. “What if we leave for a while? Not forever. But we can, like… disappear.”

Aziraphale’s mouth opened and closed. His shoulders fell. After putting his trousers on, he walked to Anthony and knelt by his side.

“We can’t run away, Anthony. And if your mother won’t let you come here, I’ll go visit you.”

He looked up into Aziraphale’s pale blue eyes with hope. With a nod, he stood up. They got dressed and started making their way back home, not nearly as enthusiastically as when they were coming to the lake.

“You can write me letters,” Anthony suggested, “like you do with Oscar.”

“I can, if you want,” he agreed. “Leave your address with mum and I’ll write you a letter.”

Anthony nodded, smiling a bit. They continued to walk in silence, letting all the possible outcomes sink into their minds. He couldn’t know if he regretted what he did, because he knew he’d do it again. A day playing with Aziraphale was better than the whole semester at school, so it was worth it, unlike the punch on Gary. But a day with him wasn’t better than a whole summer, or all the other summers, so was it worth it? Risking all this? With his heart aching a bit (and not understanding that sort of pain), Anthony took Aziraphale’s hand as they walked back to the farm, wanting to feel his Angel as close as possible for as long as he could. The blonde didn’t say anything, but squeezed his hand to comfort him.

When they arrived, Aziraphale’s mother was in the kitchen, and the smell of food in the oven could be felt from outside. The two boys who had swam the whole afternoon suddenly had that sensation of hole in the stomach.

“There you are,” she said, smiling with that cooking apron that made her resemble a journal propaganda from the 50s. “Aziraphale, my dear, would you mind calling your brother and your father for dinner?”

Her son nodded and left the kitchen. Anthony was still nervous, not knowing if his mother would appear from the living room, yell at him, take him back home. And his hands started to shake when Mrs. Eaven removed her cooking gloves and turned to him.

“My dear, I called your mother.”

Anthony felt like throwing up.

“Yes?”

“She didn’t know you are here. She said you were forbidden to come and she had no idea of how you got here.”

Anthony’s eyes filled with tears and he nodded.

“I took a train,” he began to explain, but stopped when she raised a hand in the air.

“I don’t wanna know how you did it. I’m glad you’re safe and nothing bad happened. You’re lucky I called her before she started thinking you had vanished. So she was shocked, but not madly furious yet.”

“Is she coming to pick me up?”

“She wanted to. I told her to leave you here. I believe that God has a plan for us all, and if God wanted you to be here, then that’s where you should be.” She walked over to Anthony and caressed his messed up hair that had dried in the wind. “But you need to talk to her, okay? You need to call her.”

Aziraphale was arriving with his father and Gabriel when Anthony nodded at Mrs. Eaven.

After dinner, Anthony called his mother. On the phone, he cried and listened to all the things that could’ve happened to him when he ran away, how lucky he was to be alive, how she’d consider never letting him return, how he’d have to get much better grades and never again cause any trouble at school so she’d let him see Aziraphale, and how she was tired of his behavior and literally going crazy. She also made a point to say he was very, very lucky that she wouldn’t tell his father. But Anthony knew that his father would be angry at  _ her _ mostly, so that wasn’t really to protect him. Aziraphale was by his side holding his hand during the whole call.

Tired and with their tummies full, the two still played in the bath, but were already half asleep when Mrs. Eaven covered them both on Aziraphale’s bed.

“Angel,” he called, with his eyes closed, voice soft and slow, his long arms around his friend.

“Yes?”

“What is Moby Dick?” he asked.

He was asleep before he heard the answer. And Aziraphale too followed before his phrase finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> impulsive much?


	3. Letters

_ Dear Anthony, _

_ How are you doing? I hope you’re fine. I know we spoke on the phone this week, but I told you I was going to write you a letter. Mum is helping me and she sends you hugs and kisses. I miss you a lot. How’s school? _

_ Next Friday is my birthday. I’m having a party in the farm. I wish you could come. But mum said that Mrs. Crowley is still angry. _

_ Lots of love, _

_ Aziraphale (and mum) _

_ Dear Angel, _

_ I’m okay. School is boring. I have to read a book for class and there are no pictures. It’s very hard. I don’t know how you can like to read. I wish I could read like you. Gary is still being mean, but I’m ignoring him. _

_ I wish I could go to your birthday. But it’s entirely my fault that I cannot go because I was a terrible boy and I shouldn’t run away, so of course my mother is still angry. But I’m learning my lesson and maybe in your next birthday I’ll be there if I’m a good boy. Mum is helping me with this letter too, by the way. _

_ Happy birthday! _

_ Anthony (and mum) _

_ Dear Anthony, _

_ Merry Christmas! It’s sad that you’re not coming to spend the holidays with us. Mum gave me a book and father made me another boat. You’re gonna love it. It’s super big and pretty. _

_ Lots of love, _

_ Aziraphale _

  
  
  


_ Dear Angel, _

_ I wish I was there, but father wanted to spend the holidays with granny. She’s really old and keeps saying that this might be her last Christmas. _

_ I got an 9 in Maths! I’m really happy. It was hard. Mum asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I told her I wanted to spend the summer with you. And she let me. Also, I’m being a good boy, so I deserve it for now. But she can change her mind if I don’t behave. _

_ Merry Christmas! _

_ Anthony (and mum) _

_ Dear Anthony, _

_ I can’t wait for summer. I’ve made some new friends at school. Michael and Newt. They are really nice. Newt is too shy, but he’s gentle. He broke the fountain last week and he was crying, so I helped him. Michael is older than me, but she’s nice. _

_ I miss you a lot! _

_ With love, _

_ Aziraphale _

_ Dear Angel, _

_ I made some new friends too. I’m going to a different school now. The new teacher told my mum that I have trouble reading and sitting still. Mum said I was always like that. I’m not the tallest kid anymore, because in this school there are much older kids. They don’t call me snake eyes here yet. So I’m making friends with the right people to avoid problems. There’s this girl, Anathema. She’s weird, but in a nice way. I like her. _

_ Miss you too, _

_ Anthony _

  
  
  


_ Dear Anthony, _

_ I really can’t wait for summer. Last week I was speaking to Michael and this other girl came and made fun of her because she has a boy’s name. I was so angry! Why are people so mean? Michael didn’t cry because she’s the toughest. I admit I cried a little for her. But you know how I am. Newt was angry too. We told the headmaster and they are going to talk to the girl. _

_ I think Oscar is gonna spend the first week of summer here too. It’s gonna be super fun. You’re gonna meet him. _

_ So, about Anathema. You said you like her. So do you really like her? Gabriel has a girlfriend, by the way. Mum is going nuts. She says they are supposed to wait until they are 18. _

_ Only 17 days now! _

_ Aziraphale _

_ Dear Angel, _

_ People are mean. They have no reason to be, but they are. I think they are sort of fighting back something. You know? Like when I punched Gary last year. I was fighting back because he offended me. Gary was fighting back because, I don’t know, someone was mean to him, and he needed to feel better about it. So maybe this girl was mean to Michael because someone was mean to her. _

_ I’m saying this because I always think of giving back what I receive. Mum doesn’t know, but I told this bigger boy that David (you don’t know him) had put gum on his backpack, but I had done it. David kicked me in the butt this week, so I made a bigger kid kick his butt. _

_ Anathema? No, I mean I like her as my friend. She’s really pretty. I hadn’t thought about her like that. I don’t think she likes me like that either. But all the other boys like her. _

_ Great, can’t wait to meet Oscar. _

_ 10 days! _

_ Anthony _

  
  


_ Dear Anthony, _

_ What happened? I was waiting for you on Monday. Mum prepared my room for the three of us. Oscar is here. He wants to meet you. He’s gonna stay until Sunday. _

_ With love, _

_ Aziraphale (and Oscar) _

_ Dear Angel, _

_ I’m sorry, I couldn’t go this week. I miss you a lot, but my granny asked us to go visit her again (‘might be my last summer’ she keeps saying). I’ll be there next Monday, promise. It’s a shame I couldn’t see Oscar. _

_ With love, _

_ Anthony _

On Monday the driver left Anthony at the Eaven’s home. He had only a backpack, since some of his clothes were already kept in their house. He saw Aziraphale on the window of his room upstairs, and before he even left the car the boy was gone. Half way through the garden, Aziraphale was already running towards him.

He nearly fell back when the boy jumped on him.

“Oi, Angel, you’re gonna kill us both,” he chuckled.

“I wasn’t prepared to wait another week, Anthony. You should’ve told in advance.”

They went upstairs after greeting the whole family. Gabriel wasn’t around, however. Apparently the other brother had gone out on a date with his girlfriend. Mrs. Eaven started complaining that he never helped her around the farm anymore since he met this girl. Aziraphale pulled Anthony from the living room before she had the chance to continue complaining, knowing she’d likely never stop.

“Mum hates that Gabriel has a girlfriend,” Aziraphale laughed upon entering his bedroom.

The room had changed slightly. A bookcase was added, by the side of the window. The carpet was different. From the blue one with little airplanes to a plain brown. The bed had also been replaced last year. His father had built one bigger one to fit two growing kids. But soon it would be too small as well.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, throwing himself on the bed, “she’s actually quite nice. They met in the church. Mum says he shouldn’t date anyone before he’s 18.”

Anthony nodded and put his backpack down on the floor. He sat near the headboard of the bed and noticed a book on the nightstand. Curious, he picked it up and flipped some pages.

“Harry Potter?” he asked. “Doesn’t fit the type of book you read.”

“Oscar gave me,” he explained.

Anthony raised his eyebrows and put the book down again.

“How nice he is. He brought you gifts.”

“We hadn’t seen each other in a while. He likes Paris. Says it’s a lot more fun than here. Do you wanna read that?” he asked, realizing that Anthony kept eying the book.

The boy took a deep breath and turned to Aziraphale.

“I need to talk to you, Angel.”

“Hm?”

“But I’m scared.”

Aziraphale moved closer and put his hand over Anthony’s.

“Scared?”

“You need to know something but I feel like I’m gonna sound bad.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips, thinking.

“You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“But I want to,” he insisted, “but it’s lame. It’s dumb.”

“That’s what you’re saying, not me. Don’t worry.”

Anthony sighed and looked away, eyeing the book again. His eyes traveled to Aziraphale’s hand over his own and then up at his pale blue eyes.

“I lied to you about why I didn’t come this week,” he confessed, “I didn’t go see my granny.”

“You lied? Why didn’t you come, then?”

“Because Oscar was here.”

Aziraphale’s expression scared Anthony for a moment. The hand around his own moved just a little. But there wasn’t anger or disappointment in his eyes. There was confusion. He frowned and tilted his head to the side.

“Because Oscar was here?”

“I didn’t want to see him,” he explained.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know,” he exclaimed, honestly, sounding desperate to understand why he couldn’t tell him such a thing.

“You don’t like Oscar?”

“I don’t even know him,” he sighed, “but I don’t… I don’t know, Angel. See? I told you it was lame. I don’t even know why I lied.”

Aziraphale blinked a few times, shut one eye, pursed his lips, rested his head on his hand, tapped his cheek with one finger, and then finally came up with something.

“You asked me if I like Oscar more than you,” he remembered, “maybe you’re still not sure?”

Anthony opened his mouth as his confusing thoughts suddenly took shape, like a messy dough in the oven growing to become a perfect bread.

“No, I…” he started, stuttering, since his mind was going too fast to follow, “I didn’t think you like him more than me, I was scared you’d start preferring him. I was scared I wouldn’t be your best friend anymore. And I didn’t want to come while he was here because I was scared of seeing that happening. Aha!”

Aziraphale giggling a little with Anthony speaking like he wasn’t talking about himself.

“It’s not lame, Anthony. I also fear that you’ll find someone who’ll be your best friend instead of me. We only see each other during summer. You’re in a new school with new friends, and of course I also worry. Oscar is a good friend, but it’s different.”

“I’m gonna worry anyway,” Anthony said, lowering his head, “okay? I cannot promise you I won’t be worrying anymore.”

“Okay. You can tell me when you feel unsafe about this. I’ll tell you too. I worried about Anathema. Maybe it’s because Gabriel is so head over heels for his girlfriend.”

“You thought I was going to date Anathema?” Anthony frowned.

“Well, not date. But we all like someone at some point, don’t we? Newt is in love with a girl. They walk together most of the time. So I worried you’d fancy her or anyone. And like… spend more time with her than me. When you said you lied about why you didn’t come, I thought for a second that you had spent the week with her.”

Anthony’s face was as confused as it could be. He thought that his head was making up scenarios to mess with him, but Aziraphale went further and created him a relationship.

“I’m not gonna be an idiot who pushes their friend away when they find a girl, Angel. Also, girls are lame. Anathema is my friend because she’s not like the other girls. I don’t understand why people like girls, honestly. What’s the fun thing about walking hand in hand with them? They hate insects and they like dolls. And it could happen with you too, couldn’t it? You could have a crush on someone.”

Aziraphale shrugged.

“Never happened. But I suppose it could. So how about we make a promise? We won’t push each other away when we get girlfriends.”

Anthony nodded and offered his hand.

“I promise.”

Aziraphale shook his hand firmly, taking it very seriously.

“Promise,” he repeated.

That promise didn’t need to be renewed for another 4 years. But eventually, it came in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we hit puberty at full speed okay thank you


	4. Dreams with water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get it? Wet dreams

In the summer of the year that Anthony and Aziraphale turned 12, they were both surprised to find out that Mrs. Eaven had asked her husband to build an extra bed and put it in the boy’s room to receive his friend. None of them understood why - sleeping together was comfortable, safe, and, it seemed, essential part of their time. Specially when Anthony found out that his favorite type of books and movies was horror. Nothing else was able to catch his attention for too long. He’d watch fantasy and romance movies with his friend, but half way through the red haired was long gone in his head, bouncing his legs and tapping the sofa. Aziraphale never said a word, but he knew how hard for Anthony it was to sit down and watch a Disney movie with him. So when the other proposed to secretly watch The Ring, he didn’t say no. Mrs. Eavens couldn’t even think of her sweet son watching that movie, so they had locked the door and sat together after midnight, protected by a blanket.

Terrible idea, of course. They only managed to sleep because they were sharing a bed. Anthony didn’t show how scared he was through the whole movie, instead looking calm and interested, while Aziraphale his his face on the other’s shoulder.

But the extra bed was there.

“Did you tell them that we don’t need one?” Anthony asked.

“I told her. But she said that teens aren’t supposed to share a bed. We deserve our own bed. She even asked me if I wanted her to empty the TV room for you.”

Anthony folded his arms in front of his chest.

“Is your mum scared that we’ll do something?” he asked.

“Something?”

“You know. Intimacy,” the other explained.

Aziraphale frowned.

“Oh boy,” he exclaimed upon understanding.

“We can still share a bed if you want. I’ll jump to yours after everyone goes to sleep.”

Aziraphale waved his head and then finally nodded.

“But we have to get up early.”

  


* * *

Anthony was in the lake. The water temperature was perfect. Not too cold, not too warm. His clothes were on top of some rocks, protected from the spray of water coming from the small waterfall. He wasn’t a child playing with wooden boats anymore. He was a 13 years old teenager swimming with his best friend. The tree tops covered most of the sunlight, so the rays that dared to pass through the leaves always formed spots where whoever was beneath it seemed divine, special. Chosen.

Right now, that person was Aziraphale. He was sitting on a rock, letting the sun dry his naked skin. His hair was still wet, looking darker than it was, with some locks starting to curl up. The smile on his face was angelical.

Anthony swam towards him and left the lake. Aziraphale turned his eyes to him, which, for some reason, sent shivers down his spine. Their bodies were changing, they didn’t look so childish anymore.

“What are you looking at, dear?” asked Aziraphale, sounding almost devilish in comparison to his whole benevolent aura.

Anthony shrugged and sat on the same rock, turned towards him.

“When did you become so pretty?”

Aziraphale laughed and leaned forward with a hand going to Anthony’s face. His touch made him hold his breath.

“When did you notice I’m pretty?”

They both moved closer to each other. The blonde was smiling as their lips approached. Anthony closed his eyes and groaned as he felt a growing sensation of pleasure spreading from his groin to his stomach and legs. For a moment he couldn’t avoid the temptation of touching himself. When their lips met, there was a burst of electricity over his body, and he woke up.

He was home, in London, and it was 4am. His sleeping shorts were wet, the sheets were damp and the boy came to realize that his first _ wet dream _ was about his best friend.

* * *

It was the first time he couldn’t tell Aziraphale about something that happened. And it came with a moral hangover that kept him quiet during the whole day at school. There wasn’t another boy who he had fancied so far. And to be honest, not many girls. He thought Anathema was the prettiest of all of them, but never pictured himself kissing her. And most importantly, his mind never escaped the class or literally anything happening around him to make him remember a dream of her naked body.

The boys of his age would often make fun of each other when an unwanted erection comes from nowhere, specially (and more frequently) when the teacher asks you to answer something on the blackboard. Giggles, teases, laughs. Things that the girls didn’t understand and saw as stupid and silly. Or talked about as proof that these boys liked them. In fact, absolutely anything could trigger that reaction at that age. Anthony’s concern was only because almost every time it was Aziraphale naked on a rock that made him cross his legs in shame.

“Crowley?” Anathema called, apparently midway through her sentence, realizing her friend wasn’t paying attention to her explanation about dark ages witches.

They were calling him Crowley now. He had a good reputation at school. Letting his hair grow and wearing dark glasses most part of the time helped him build respect. Girls thought he was cute, boys wanted to be his friend, not many of them dared to make fun of him anymore.

“Hm?”

“Are you paying attention?”

He shrugged.

“I was,” he answered, “at some point.”

“You’re silent the whole day. What happened?”

Anathema had incredible green eyes and hazel skin that made everyone jealous of him for being her friend. They were misunderstood as boyfriend and girlfriend often. None of them minded.

“Oh, it’s stupid, you wouldn’t want to know,” he assured, taking a pack of bubblegum from his pocket. He took one and offered the rest to Anathema.

“Did you get in a fight?”

“I don’t fight anymore, Anathema,” he pocketed the gum and folded his arms in front of his chest.

She removed a lock of his long red hair and put it behind his ear. The sweet gesture and the brush of her fingers on his neck made him shiver a bit.

“Did you make anyone fight for you?” she corrected. It was an updated version of how Anthony gets in trouble.

He smirked, proud of what she said.

“No, no troubles. I didn’t do anything wrong. I think.”

“You think?”

Should he tell her? What was she going to say? It’s not like she’d make fun of him, she was better than this. Maybe Anathema was the only person who he could trust with that information. So why it was so hard to say it? It was embarrassing and intimate, and girls don’t wanna hear boys talk about what makes them have wet dreams, but this girl was different.

“You know Angel?” he said.

“Hm, your best friend, you never shut up about him,” she slapped his shoulder, pretending a bad mood of jealousy.

“Well, I dreamed about him,” he confessed.

“Dreamed about him? What about? Bad dream?”

Surely she thought he was quiet that day because he was worried about his friend.

“Not exactly,” he sighed, running his hands through his hair just to have something else to focus on rather than on that talk. “I don’t understand why I dreamed about this, I never… I swear I never looked at him like this, and we have…”

“You had dirty dreams?” she interrupted, smiling widely.

Anthony’s cheeks were red as his hair. The glasses came in hand. He didn’t need to look at her right now. The proud, smirky boy had shrank on the bench, and for a moment he looked around to make sure that no one was hearing this.

“I swear I can’t understand why,” he answered, unable to say a simple ‘yes’.

“Well, how was it?” she asked, very interested.

“Nothing much. We were at the lake I told you about. Nothing different. He was there, I was there, we flirted and kissed. That’s it.”

Anathema pursed her lips. Perhaps she was disappointed for how simple that was.

“What was he doing? Why did you feel like flirting with him?”

“I don’t know, he looked… nice? But it was just him. Sitting on a rock, resting. He always does that.”

Anathema looked both sides before whispering between her teeth.

“Naked?”

“Of course naked, we always swim naked.”

Anathema’s eyebrows lifted so far in her forehead that Anthony thought she was having a stroke.

“You swim naked with Aziraphale? Like, normally?”

“What’s the problem? We’re boys. How do you think that the locker room looks like? There are no stalls.” She waved her head, understanding, but then he continued: “We know each other since we’re five. We take baths together. We sleep together.”

Anathema’s expression had barely recovered from the initial shock when her eyebrows lifted again.

“You sleep with Aziraphale?”

Anthony quickly lifted a finger in the air, as if the movement could make his friend hold her conclusions and judgement.

“Now I know this is not something people do in their teens, but we’ve been doing it forever, and there’s nothing wrong about it. We enjoy it, and it’s innocent and pure, okay?”

“Sure was. How is it going to be now that you had a wet dream about him?” she said, winking at Anthony.

He lowered his head. The thought hadn’t occurred yet. The dream didn’t put him in an abnormal situation in which Aziraphale looked out of his usual self or doing something they never do. It was a normal day. A day that would likely repeat and that would end with them sleeping in the same bed.

He swallowed. When he ran his hands through his hair this time, he noticed that he was sweating.

“I swear I don’t understand,” he whispered, sounding desperate.

“Don’t think too much about it,” Anathema advised. “We have weird dreams all the time. Maybe it was a one time thing. But if you want my opinion, I think that the dream means, _ at least _ that you’re a little bit into boys too. And since you have so much intimacy with Aziraphale, he was the most logical way for your brain to go.”

Anthony nodded. It makes sense. Liking boys wasn’t something he considered before, simply because everyone around him kept talking about girls. But he could wrap his head around the idea. His parents wouldn’t mind. Maybe a few classmates could use it against him, but it’s not like it would do any harm. Anthony was respected. If anything, the information would help others think about their own sexuality. _ Being out is being cool _ , they’d think. Because Crowley was _ cool _.

“I don’t think I’m gay, though,” he pondered.

“I don’t think you are,” she agreed, “at least I hope not.”

He looked at her with confusion.

“You hope?”

Anathema leaned forward and kissed Anthony’s cheek, then looked at him to wait for a reaction.

He blinked a few times. Aware of girl’s interest in him, Anthony never thought Anathema was the same. Surely he hoped that one day she’d give him such a chance, but the idea was very distant in his mind. Now the possibility was staring right back at him with bright green eyes and a smile. His heart was pounding. This is not how he imagined his first kiss to go, not unplanned and sudden like this. But it did. Without thinking further, he leaned forward and answered her with a quick kiss to her lips. They were soft, wet, and gentle, but as soon as she moved closer and put a hand on his face, he stopped the kiss to cross his legs, blushing.

“Well, not gay,” she concluded, giggling.

Embarrassed, but failing to control his chuckle, he nodded.

“Not gay.”

* * *

_ Dear Angel, _

_ You’ll not believe it. You know Anathema? So, we were talking today, and then she kissed me. I had my first kiss today! It was cool. People saw it, we were at school. They already thought we were dating, now they are sure. I don’t know if we are, but Anathema is incredible, so I surely want it. I’m sending you a picture of her. _

_ Also, I’m already shaving. I didn’t cut my hair, so it’s very long, you’ll see. I’m already 5’6” tall. Bad side is that I think my arms are too long for my body. _

_ Oh, I dreamed about you last night. _

_ With love, _

_ Anthony _

  


_ Dear Anthony, _

_ I’m happy to know you had your first kiss with Anathema! She looks very pretty. You always talk about her, so I’m glad she corresponded your feelings. _

_ I’m definitely not shaving yet. I’m sure that your arms are not too long for your body, you’re just paranoid. Isn’t your mum going crazy about your hair? _

_ I always dream about us. What did you dream about? _

_ with love, _

_ Aziraphale _

_ Dear Angel, _

_ I dreamed about us in the lake, nothing special. Maybe I just miss you. _

_ What do you dream about? _

_ I’ve got a phone now, if you want to text. _

  


_ Waiting for summer, _

_ Anthony _

_ Dear Anthony, _

_ I dream we’re together. You know, talking. Last night I dreamed we were riding a horse. Silly, we don’t own a horse here. _

_ I don’t have a phone. Mum says I need to be older to get one. _

_ Oscar also kissed someone for the first time recently. But he kissed a boy. Seems like all my friends are having their first kiss, except me. Mum didn’t like to know about Oscar. Church stuff. Can’t wait to have you here again. _

_ With love, _

_ Aziraphale _

When summer finally came, Anthony had quite a few dilemmas going on. 

He entered the Eaven’s home and hugged Mrs. Eaven before laying eyes on Aziraphale. Her reaction to his long hair and dark clothes was priceless. It seemed like a huge effort to pretend that Anthony would ever be allowed near Aziraphale if they weren’t friends for almost ten years now. The leather jacket was being carried over his shoulder, but he was wearing a tank top and tight dark jeans that showed how skinny and snake-like his body was.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale looked as pacific as he always did, with nearly white blonde hair, curly like a baroque angel, pale blue eyes and his too-old-for-his-age pastel clothes. But now there was a Pavlovian response to his presence. Anthony was nervous about how summer would go. Even after kissing Anathema a few times, even inviting her over, even dating her, Anthony kept having dreams with his best friend. And he was definitely attracted to her, of course. She was beautiful and a great friend. He had to sit through half an hour of “the talk” when he started inviting her over more often, since his mother was worried about his impassivity as a teen. 

She still had no idea that the real problem was with Aziraphale. But how could she guess? Even knowing his parents wouldn’t really mind the fact that he was, by now, pretty sure he was bisexual or something along the therm, he didn’t tell them. For some reason, he felt like it was better to wait and see what happens during summer.

Aziraphale hugged him after he was greeted by Mrs. Eaven. He’d be more surprised about how he enjoyed the way his friend smelled if he didn’t know that this was just because he was a lot more aware of how he was feeling around him. It was expected, really.

They went upstairs to leave Anthony’s belongings in the room. The two beds were still there, of course.

“Gabriel is gonna be here this summer,” Aziraphale told him, sitting on his bed while Anthony unpacked. “He and his girlfriend.”

Anthony rarely saw Gabriel. After he went to college, he only came home for summer in rare occasions, staying for no longer than a week.

“Still the same girl?”

“Still Sandy, yes.”

Aziraphale straightened and crossed his legs. The movement was light and quite feminine, and Anthony couldn’t help but notice how he sighed and pouted. There was an alarm going in his head, but he couldn’t tell if it was a _ gaydar _ or a ‘ _ I truly hope he’s gay’dar _.

“I asked mum for the double bed that is in his room, but she said he’ll use it.”

They were really too big for one single bed now. Which was a concern. If they were going to keep the tradition of sleeping together, now they’d be squeezing against each other, which would be, to say the least, a trigger.

There was no way he’d go unnoticed the whole summer. This much he knew. The smartest thing to do was to ask to sleep apart for the first time.

“We can push the beds together,” he suggested, in a mix of a bad and a good idea.

Aziraphale looked at them both to check if it would be possible. There was a nightstand in between them, but it could be moved, as long as they remembered to return everything to its place in time. If his mother thought they couldn’t sleep together when they were 12, she surely wouldn’t like it now that they were 14.

“We can do it, yes!” he said, happily, with his beautiful bright smile.

Anthony took off his glasses, placing them in the nightstand. Then, he sat in the other bed, facing his friend.

“So how was the year?”

“I think it’s you who has a lot to tell. How’s Anathema?”

Good subject. Safe. Nice way to put it in his head that he was attracted to her. Still, even relieved that Aziraphale chose to talk about her, there was a void in their conversation. He felt it in his letters as well. They always told everything to each other, and now there was this huge information about who he was that was being kept hidden. _ I like boys too _ was something he desperately wanted to share with him, but couldn’t feel safe enough to do so. _ Sometimes I dream about you _ was also off limits if they were going to sleep together.

“Doing fine,” he answered, shrugging. Anathema was very jealous of him at the moment. She knew about the first dream, not the others, but it was enough.

“So she’s your girlfriend now?”

“Sort of. Not exactly. We’re just… having fun.”

“Isn’t she mad that you’re going to spend the whole summer here?”

“No, she knows how important this is. She wanted to see me, but she understands.”

Aziraphale nodded and looked down, as if trying to gather the courage to continue speaking.

“So how does it feel? Kissing.”

Anthony opened his mouth and stuttered a few times, then shrugged.

“Wet. I guess.”

“Wet?”

“Well, yes. It’s good. Didn’t Oscar tell you about it?”

Aziraphale’s expression fell.

“Mum doesn’t let me talk to him anymore. Because he’s dating a boy. I can’t write him letters.”

He had guessed that Mrs. Eaven disapproved some sorts of things. Like his clothes, his hair, and probably homosexuality as well. But he didn’t think she’d go as far as prohibiting her son from talking to a gay person. It was safer to keep his own bisexuality a secret, then. She wouldn’t allow him to come over if she knew.

“I have a phone, if you wanna talk to him,” Anthony said, showing his cell phone. “We can send him a SMS.”

“Really?” his face lightened up and Anthony _ almost _regretted his offer.

“Sure. It’s no big deal,” he shrugged. “So he has a boyfriend?”

“Yes. Mum didn’t say it, but I saw that she was worried.”

“Worried about what? He’s in Paris. And she thinks he can turn you gay?”

Aziraphale lowered his eyes. He took a while to speak.

“Would it be a problem if I were gay? I mean, not that Oscar would turn me anything. I mean, it wouldn’t be a problem anyway, right?”

The alarm went off in Anthony’s head. Now this was definitely a gaydar. But he really would rather not know this in the first day of summer.

“Of course not!” he said, maybe too quickly. “Are you?” he asked, this time slowly.

Aziraphale wasn’t facing him.

“I don’t know,” he answered, “but maybe.”

Anthony smiled. Even if he was worried about messing their friendship by being awkward around him, this was good. A part of the void between them had turned slightly smaller by the shy confession. It felt extremely comforting that Aziraphale trusted him this much, when his family clearly didn’t accept that sort of thing. Terrible for his awkwardness around his friend, but great for their friendship. He should tell him he was also attracted by boys, but it was probably better to leave it for later. Probably after summer. So at the moment he just stood up and sat by his side.

“Oi, Angel, it’s alright. When we turn 18, we’ll go to the nice pubs of Soho together and you’re gonna get so many boys.”

Aziraphale laughed and pushed Anthony.

“Dork. Come on, it’s early, let’s go to the lake,” he said, standing up.

The lake. Even the word made Anthony shiver. How many times did he dream about that? And being entirely honest, after the first two months of moral hangover, Anthony wasn’t just dreaming about it. He was imagining it willingly.

The traditions of their friendship would kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey can you hear that sound? It's their hormones boiling.  
(Yes next chapter there's the lake scene and then the bed sharing scene)


	5. Don't forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing this fanfic faster than any fanfic I've written, believe me. I was writing it daily, but it's been a busy week at work. Still, I try to at least think of new ideas while I'm working. And the possibilities are endless :) Just to clarify why there are few updates!
> 
> So, as promised, our boys go to the lake and some dreams come true.

They stopped at the kitchen to make some sandwiches and get some juice for a picnic. After telling his mother that they wouldn’t be back for lunch, Aziraphale kissed her cheek and left with Anthony.

The way to the lake had changed over the years. As the locals forgot its existence, the vegetation started to cover some areas of the path. It became like a secret place for them. Isolated, peaceful and clean. Perfect to spend a warm day of summer. The lake was also a very vivid memory for Anthony. Whenever he thought of his friend, he pictured him smiling and laughing in the water, with a ray of light shining over his head. Truly the image of an angel.

_ Maybe, _ he thought,  _ when we’re there for real, my head won’t remember the dreams. _

Why would it affect him anyway? It’s not like this is the first time they do this. They’ve been coming to the lake for six years now. And they were more than used and comfortable to their nudity. It was far from any issue. It was normal, just as normal as wearing clothes. They not only swam in the lake naked, they also took baths together and changed clothes in the same room without any second thought to it. So it  _ definitely  _ had to be something wrong with his head when dreaming. Not awake.

When they arrived, Anthony was pretty confident that it would be okay. He even relaxed more. The familiar situation helped him believe that this was just another fun day at the lake. They left the picnic basket on top of a rock away from the water and Aziraphale started taking off his clothes.

Shirt off, everything was cool. He also started undressing, a lot less concerned about folding his clothes than Aziraphale. When he put his fingers over his zipper, his friend was placing his trousers near the picnic basket, naked.

And that was the first time that their nudity didn’t seem  _ banal _ . If he needed any confirmation, now Anthony was entirely sure that he was attracted by his body. His eyes were caught like they had never been before. He was interested in seeing his forms, his details. He was delicate, pale, and at the same time so handsome. It should be just another day, but the same hormones that were changing how Aziraphale looked were also changing the way Anthony looks at him. It wasn’t the same anymore. None of them were.

Cold water would be welcomed now.

Before Aziraphale could notice him staring, he felt guilty about it and looked away. What a creep he was being. The moral hangover was back at full force. He lowered his trousers and pants turned backwards to the lake, just in case Aziraphale sees how his body had already started to wake up, then jumped in the water conveniently fast.

After they were both swimming and throwing water at each other, it all became a lot easier. The memories of the dreams didn’t occur to his head. The cold water also helped. When laughing and chatting, the two could forget the whole world. They spent a whole hour exploring the lake in a challenge Aziraphale brought up. Whoever finds the rock that looks more like a ship, wins. They stopped at midday to eat and compare the rocks.

Dripping, Aziraphale came out of the water to sit over the shore. The scene was way too similar to his first dream, so Anthony decided that it was safer to stay in the water. He cursed mentally when his friend found a spot under a ray of sunlight to dry himself. His body, so far behaving very well, decided to protest and rebel against his brain. Too many memories, too many triggers.

Anthony swam closer and propped himself over a rock, but from waist down he was in the water. No way he could come out right now.

“You need to leave the water, dear. How are you gonna put your clothes back on? Especially your trousers. You’re never gonna be able to put them on wet.”

The boy sighed. Aziraphale looked like a marble sculpture.

“I can look away if you want,” the boy suggested, not as a joke.

He felt those words directly in his stomach.

“Sure, like you haven’t seen everything there is to see,” Anthony answered.

“Yes, but now you know I’m gay.”

Anthony’s internal voice was screaming.  _ No, no, no, no, no. _ He couldn’t manage to form any actual words, though. Only gasps came out of his mouth. He was scared of being the creep one, and now he made Aziraphale think  _ he _ was the problem. Anthony would’ve covered his friend’s mouth if he could to stop him from saying something like that ever again. He was never the problem. And nothing was worse than his Angel thinking he had done something bad or that Anthony didn’t like him in any way.

“Don’t be silly, Angel,” he finally managed to say. “That’s absurd! Don’t you even dare think that. Don’t you dare. Okay? You think I care that you are gay? Pfff. Shut up. What, you think I would mind if you thought I’m hot? You can stare all you want, babe, I know I’m sexy,” he babbled, adding a few jokes and laughing so his point would be understood.

Aziraphale giggled and smiled, relieved.

Good.

“Then sit here with me, Anthony,” he whined, embracing his legs.

Everything he said would be proved as a lie if he denied. So he could have one of two ways. One: Aziraphale thinks he’s avoiding him. And two: he tells the truth. Or part of it.

“I can’t right now,” he blushed, “I have a thing going on.”

“I thing?”

“A thing.”

“What thing?”

Anthony hid his face on his arms. It was easier to say if he wasn’t looking at him.

“I’ve got a hard on,” he confessed, his voice muffled by his own arms.

Aziraphale blinked a few times, then frowned before bursting out a laugh.

“Oi, what’s so funny?”

“Happens to me all the time too,” he explained, giggling, “I’m just happy I’m not the only one going through embarrassments.”

“Of course you’re not. Every guy our age…”

“Yes, but  _ you are cool _ ,” Aziraphale interrupted, “you don’t seem like someone who gets betrayed by your own body.”

“My body doesn’t care I’m cool. You think I’m cool?”

“I won’t repeat that, dear. Stay there all you want,” he smiled and lied down on his stomach, closing his eyes to relax and wait for the sun to dry him off, arse up.

And he really looked like a painting. But not just an angel anymore. Angels aren’t supposed to make you feel like you wanna touch them. Or yourself. And Anthony really went through a hell of an internal discussion about whether he should get rid of his problem where he was, while Aziraphale had his eyes closed. He knew he couldn’t do it and that it was wrong and awkward. But he was actually feeling pain already.

When the boy shifted and to lie on his back, their eyes met for a second. Anthony’s face was red as fresh tomatoes.

“Still?”

“Shut up.”

“You can go solve it,” Aziraphale suggested.

When did he get himself in a situation in which Aziraphale tells him to wank?

“I’m okay,” he assured. “Fuck it.”

Anthony swam closer to his clothes and simply decided he wouldn’t care anymore. Maybe it was the right thing to do. Aziraphale hadn’t related his arousal with himself, so if it happens more times during summer, it was easier to play as something his hormones always to to him for no reason, not to mention he’d normalize that. They shared an intimacy that few friends do, so why not take a step further? He got off the lake, water dripping from his long hair, and used his tank top to dry off his legs just enough to put underwear and trousers on. It was still hard to put them back on with his body not entirely dry, not to mention how evident his erection was in the tight jeans. But if he was going to keep reliving his dream, the situation was only going to get worse, and the pain would become a real concern.

When he turned to Aziraphale, the boy was lying on his stomach again, eyes closed.

Anthony put his tank top to dry and carried the picnic basket closer to his friend, then sat down.

“You could’ve dealt with it, dear” Aziraphale insisted, without opening his eyes.

“Later. I’m hungry. Get dressed, I’m not gonna eat looking at your arse.”

Aziraphale giggled in the same position, but didn’t move. Anthony opened the bottle of juice to serve himself and took the sandwiches from the basket. Only then the other sat up and started getting properly dressed. They ate together like nothing had happened, and it felt incredibly good that they saw no issue with the changes they were going through. Summer would be easier that way.

But there was still another battle of awkwardness to face. After eating they waited and talked another hour, then went back to the water until the day got colder and the light started to fade. By the time they arrived at the farm it was night and they were already starving and tired. Mr. Eaven was there, watching TV and drinking whiskey. Gabriel was pissed off that dinner hadn’t been served to wait for the two. His girlfriend, a beautiful young black woman in a long white dress was trying to calm him down.

At the dinner table, Anthony noted that Mr. Eaven was quiet. The man was a known architect. He was never interested in dealing with the farm, which belonged to Mrs. Eaven’s family for decades. She was the one who loved taking care of cattle and chickens. The man had rebuilt the house to a more modern architecture before moving in. Working with wood was his specialty. Most part of the furniture had been designed or even built by him.

It wasn’t unusual lately to see him quiet like this, with his eyes dropped and focused on the plate rather than on anything else. His cheeks were pinkish because of the whisky he drank, and Mrs. Eaven didn’t seem pleased at all that he tipsy at the table, but didn’t say anything.

Apparently, only Anthony found it weird that Mr. Eaven sits to eat with his family after three or maybe four glasses of whiskey in the middle of the afternoon. The others were chatting like nothing was out of the ordinary. He clearly wasn’t speaking because his voice would sound clearly drunk, so no one asked him anything, no one turned to speak to him. He finished his plate and his wife took his plate to the sink so he wouldn’t do it himself. Everyone got up to leave before he did.

Seemed a hell lot like they were all acting in a way that nor Anthony or Sandy would notice how drunk Mr. Eaven was. And they did it so naturally that it was scary.

He had to ask him about it. Maybe. Or Aziraphale should tell him, if he felt comfortable. Perhaps it wasn’t an issue that the boy wanted to talk about. Like a vote of silence in the family, when everyone knows and no one says it, but everyone deals with it like an orchestra.

They stayed in the TV room playing video games before going back to Aziraphale’s bedroom. Anthony took a shower first while the other pulled the nightstand from the middle of the beds to push them together. He had quite a lot of time to do it, because Anthony took his time. He had to make sure that there would be no accidents during the night.

When he left the bathroom, the two beds looked like one double bed. Tonight he’d know if he could get through the summer without the awkwardness of a hard on while sleeping with Aziraphale. It depends on how difficult it is. Of course, in case he dreams about it, there would be no way to stop it. But then again, he had a ton of excuses, and Aziraphale could always choose to separate the beds again. It should be okay.

While Aziraphale was in the shower, Anthony spent some time on his phone, sending Anathema SMSs. He had to be careful with them, since his data plan could end and he wouldn’t be able to communicate with her.

_ [10:45 pm] So you two are sleeping together today? _

_ [10:45 pm] Well, yes, like we’ve always done. _

_ [10:46 pm] Like you’ve always done as children. You know this is not something people do. _

_ [10:47 pm] We do. It’s alright. It was just one dream. _

And that was just one lie.

_ [10:50 pm] I could ask you to dream about me, but that would make things awkward too. _

_ [10:50 pm] Probably. It’s alright, Anathema. It’s not like I fancy Aziraphale. He’s my friend, he’s like my brother. I’m not gonna kiss him or anything. That would be weird. _

_ [10:55 pm] Okay. Sleep well, Crowley. _

Aziraphale came out of the bathroom in that moment, catching Anthony’s attention, in pajama trousers and no shirt. It was hot after all. The window was open to cool the room, but sleeping in pairs always gets warmer.

_ [10:56 pm] You too, Anathema. _

He crawled up their double bed where Anthony was sitting. The phone was put on the nightstand that had remained. The light was turned off, but the room wasn’t completely dark, thanks to the open window that was letting the moonlight invade the place. They could still see each other very clearly.

Sleeping together since they were 5, it was only reasonable that they had a very specific way of fitting each other. With time, as they grew and their bodies changed, the position had to be re-adapted, but the overall was always the same. Anthony takes as much espace he can, with his legs going every direction, but his chest was always against Aziraphale, who sleeps on his back when it’s hot and on his side and curved when it’s cold. Anthony’s arms always wraps around his friend’s middle as well, like a child hugging a teddy bear.

Because his mind is always at full speed, Anthony had always felt that his best nights were these. At home it wasn’t unusual to spend hours and hours trying to fall asleep. In here, however, when he wraps around him, his mind slows down, his body relaxes and he never takes more than minutes to start dreaming.

And he dreamed about Aziraphale.

There was no way that this wouldn’t happen. His smell was everywhere. His mind was already set to make it happen. This time, however, it wasn’t a wet dream.

_ Aziraphale was standing in the garden of the farm. The sunlight was bright on top of their heads. The day was blindingly clear. Behind him, the modern Eaven house. When their eyes met each other, the Angel ran towards him happily. _

_ “Anthony!” he said, with that radiating happiness and that smile that seemed to shine more than the sun itself. _

_ “Hey, Angel.” _

_ When they reached each other, Aziraphale hugged him tightly. And just before letting go, kissed him. Not a quick kiss, like the ones he shares with Anathema. A lingering one. A loving one. And Anthony’s heart melted in the warmth of the whole existence of Aziraphale. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation, no surprise. It felt like something they always do. His subconsciousness immediately invented and informed Anthony that they were boyfriends. _

_ “Angel,” he whispered, smiling against his lips. _

_ “Yes, dear?” _

_ “I love you so much. You know that?” _

_ “I do, my dear.” _

_ “Don’t forget.” _

Anthony woke up before Aziraphale. They were still in the same position, but Anthony’s legs had moved to cover his friend’s. So now he was literally entirely wrapped around him. It wasn’t the first time this happened. But today he used the proximity to see Aziraphale like he had never before. He truly looked like an angel. So beautiful, peaceful, sleeping right there, offering him calm and tranquility to his unstable and uncontrolled mind. His dreams weren’t playing a trick on him. He knew this now.

He was in love with Aziraphale. And the only thing he had to lose was  _ everything he cared about. _

This, the close friendship, the intimacy, the trust they shared. Everything would be shaken if he knew. Of course he wasn’t immediately discarding the possibility that maybe, someday, Aziraphale could return his feelings. But he didn’t believe he’d have the courage to ask. The stakes were too high.

He was lost in his thoughts when the other started to move slightly, waking up but with his eyes still closed. He yawned, smiled, then giggled.

“Anthony, dear.”

“Yes, angel?”

“You’ve got a morning wood.”

“Shit.”

Aziraphale was laughing as Anthony got up to go the bathroom. But it was okay. This wasn’t close to a problem anymore. Aziraphale didn’t care, obviously.

His biggest concern was his love for his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh well.
> 
> They are growing, aren't them?


	6. I want to break free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That took longer than expected, didn't it? Sorry guys. Usually I have some free time at work to write, but I went to a different sector and now it's just harder to find time. But hey, I just got sick, so I'm stuck at home, maybe I can write faster. Also, thank you SO MUCH for the support.

When the school year started, the previous summer was still in Anthony’s mind. Everything about it was stuck in his head on replay. He liked to tell himself that it was just a good feeling, that his love was comparable to a strong friendship and there was no problem if Aziraphale never feels the same, or if he does, he never finds out, but that was just to avoid letting the fear take possession of his thoughts and control him.

Apart from running, he discovered that helping his mother with the garden also slowed down his body and mind. It was a great way to stop thinking about Aziraphale. The plants required care every day and they grow slowly. So he had to be patient and careful. Studying their needs became a hobby, and it reflected on his grades at school when it comes to Biology.

Around February, Anthony asked his Biology teacher to be responsible for the greenhouse of the school. The project was small, but quite complex. The teacher believed strongly that Anthony would find himself in Botany, so he let him. No one else thought that this was a good idea, but it worked very well. The plants were all well taken care of and they had never been so shiny and healthy. After school, he’d go there and stay alone, talking to his plants. Anathema was officially his girlfriend by now. A silly attempt to overcome his feelings for Aziraphale. But she was never there with him. This was his moment to question everything about himself.

“If I tell him I’m bisexual, will he think I’m in love with him? I mean, it’s a good thing, isn’t it? If he thinks I’m in love with him, maybe he’ll start flirting to let me know? And then I’ll feel safe to tell him,” he spoke towards some fern pots.

The fern obviously didn’t respond. Anthony sighed and sprayed it with water, then stepped forward to the next plant.

“And there’s Anathema. Am I a bad person for being with her when I have feelings for someone else? Should I try to forget my feelings for Aziraphale and love Anathema? But what if Aziraphale returns my feelings someday?”

There was a noise behind him. He gasped and jumped, turning 180º degrees. A guy was tapping on the plastic of the greenhouse.

He was taller than Anthony and was wearing a white t-shirt that seemed one size smaller than his actual size. It was firmly tight around his strong arms and chest. He also wore a blue jeans and black all-stars shoes. In one of his ears he had an earphone. The other was hanging from his neck, connected to an mp3 attached to his belt. He had a cigarette in his mouth.

“Are you talking to yourself, mate?”

The voice was muffled by the plastic, but Anthony managed to hear it.

“Are you spying on me?”

The boy laughed and shook his head.

“I almost could hear you over my music,” he explained, pointing at the hanging earphone.

Dark short hair, strong jaws. Anthony’s stomach flipped. His mouth opened, but he found nothing to say. The boy looked both sides before finding the entrance to the greenhouse. Anthony did nothing but to watch him approach where he was.

“Don’t smoke in here, it’s a greenhouse,” Anthony finally said.

He shrugged and put off the cigarette on the metal table that spread across the center of the greenhouse.

“So what are you doing? Detention or something?”

“Detention? No. Who are you?”

“Sorry,” the boy smiled and extended his hand. “Frederic. Fred for you. And you are…?”

“Crowley,” he answered, taking his hand.

“Crowley. Nice. Don’t you ever take those glasses off?”

Anthony stuffed his chest and turned his back on him to continue watering the plants.

“No. Sorry I interrupted your music.”

“No problem. So why are you here taking care of the plants?”

“Because I like to take care of the plants, obviously.”

“Hmm. Funny taste.”

Anthony didn’t answer that. He was still cautious about the boy. He was obviously older, and very likely new to the school. No doubt he was hiding in the back to smoke.

“I love your hair,” said Fred, breaking the silence.

Anthony swallowed and looked at him only for a few seconds, then looked away to his plants.

“Thank you. What are you listening to?”

The boy got excited with the question. He approached Anthony and put the hanging earphone in his ear. He shivered with the unexpected closeness and intimacy, but didn’t stop him. The song that blasted into his ear was obviously Queen. He knew Queen, of course. Everyone knows Queen. But he never actually listened to it. He never stopped to hear it.

_ But life still goes on _

_ I can't get used to living without, living without _

_ Living without you by my side _

_ I don't want to live alone, hey _

_ God knows, got to make it on my own _

“Hm, I like it. But I don’t really know it that much. I mean, I know Bohemian Rhapsody and all.”

Fred lifted a finger to stop Anthony from speaking. He rushed outside of the greenhouse to find something in a backpack that he left out. When he returned, he had a Queen CD with him.

“Here. My job is to spread the word of our lord and savior.”

“Freddie Mercury?” Anthony giggled, taking the CD.

“Obviously. You can give me back next week. Have fun.”

* * *

At home, Anthony didn’t immediately put the CD on. Anathema came to visit him later that day, and apart from Fred’s face, the rest of the incident didn’t stay in his mind to remind him to listen to Queen. She stayed there with him, talking about school and about their History class, until he lost track of what she was saying and remembered the CD.

“Queen? I didn’t know you liked Queen,” Anathema pointed out when he stood up put the music on.

“Well, I don’t know many songs. This guy I met today borrowed me this CD. Told me to listen.”

“This guy?” she said, confused. “Which guy?”

“His name is Fred. I was at the greenhouse and he was…” he changed quickly the information in his head. Anathema wouldn’t like that the boy was smoking. “He was studying there. He heard me talking to myself.”

“Fred? I don’t know any Fred.”

“Must be new. And he’s definitely older. He’s like 16 or 17.”

The first song began to play.  _ Bohemian Rhapsody  _ was the first song of the collection. He returned to his bed where Anathema was sitting and threw himself there, sighing. There was too much in his head to even begin to pay attention to the music or to his girlfriend. It was only February. Too many months before he could spend summer with Aziraphale again. And Holidays were gone already - he couldn’t visit him again. Surely he could escape during weekends to pop there by surprise or something. But wouldn’t it be obvious?

“Do you think I should tell Angel that I’m bi?” Anthony wondered.

“You didn’t tell him?” she asked.

“Well, no. I thought I could make things weird.”

“How would you make things weird by telling him this?”

Anthony shrugged.

“He said he’s gay. We’re sleeping together, so…”

Anathema took a deep breath and looked away, frowning. Her mouth curved and he knew immediately that he had crossed some limits here.

“You got angry?”

“Of course I’m angry, Crowley! You’re 15, and you’re still sleeping with your gay best friend! And you had wet dreams about him!”

“I shouldn’t have told you that,” he complained. She had used that information against him several times now.

“What does it change? You are bi, he’s gay, you’re sleeping together. Don’t you think you two are too grown up to keep sharing a bed?”

He did think he was too old for that. He knew that, next summer, sharing a bed would be off limits for a regular friendship. But neither he or Aziraphale had commented on this, so they’d probably just keep going.

“It’s not like he’s interested in me just because he’s gay, Anathema.”

“Oh, I love like you said  _ he _ is not interested in  _ you _ , but not the other way around.”

Anthony swallowed all his words. He hadn’t meant to hide any information with that phrase, but his mind was faster than him.

“Anathema, you’re making things up.  _ You  _ are my girlfriend.”

The song changed.  _ Another one bites the dust. _

She folded her arms in front of her chest, still bothered. So Anthony sighed and sat closer to her, embracing her middle with his long arms. He kissed her neck gently, trying to make her calm down and easy her mind. Not that his own head was anywhere near calm around the topic. The song, however, was making him less nervous. The beat was nice.

“Promise me you won’t sleep with him anymore,” she said.

This wasn’t a simple question. It wasn’t something he could just promise. What if the day comes and he really wants to enjoy the last days that both of them can sleep so closely without thinking any wrong of it? He wasn’t sure if he’d be okay with not having that chance anymore. If he was going to stop sharing a bed with Aziraphale, he wanted to, at least, do that again. Just once more. So now he could lie, he could say no, and he could say yes. A lie would be wrong. A yes would make him suffer. And a no could well end their relationship.

“Anathema, if something had to happen, it would’ve happened already.”

“You’re my boyfriend and nothing happened,” she pointed out.

Anthony frowned and straightened his back, moving away from her so he could stare at her face.

“What do you mean?”

“If you’re my boyfriend and we haven’t gotten  _ physical  _ yet, what proves that nothing happened between you and Aziraphale just because you’re not ready?”

The frown on Anthony’s face only got more confused. They hadn’t talked about going past kisses. They were at an age that it’s still too young, but some teens are already moving forward, so it only takes two enthusiastic and curious open minded 15 year olds to do it. It also took some repressive parents, who won’t talk about safe sex, only deepening their curiosity into trying it. But nor Anthony’s or Anathema’s parents were that type.

“You never said you wanted,” he defended himself.

He never said he wanted either, and thinking about it, he wasn’t sure if he did. With Anathema, at least. His body wanted, of course. His body wanted all of that, all the time. But Anthony was too confused about Aziraphale to think it would be right to do it with her.

“I’m not saying I want it now, Crowley,” she rolled her eyes, “I’m saying that you and Aziraphale not doing anything proves nothing because we haven’t either.”

“Oh, okay. Got it. Still…” he scratched the back of his neck. “Well, we kiss. I’ve never kissed him.”

Anthony was scared of this discussion. One question was all it took. If Anathema ever asks him if he loves Aziraphale, he wouldn’t be able to lie.

“You’re not gonna promise me not to sleep with him, will you?” she asked, looking down at the carpet.

“I can promise you I will stop after this summer, if this is enough for you,” he said, sighing. “I can’t just go back and tell him we won’t do this anymore because of you. I’ve promised him we would never put the other away because of any girl. Or boy. Well, boys weren’t in the agreement in the past, but I suppose it’s all the same. I’ll have to give him another reason, I don’t know. Trust me on this, yes?”

Anathema tilted her head to the side. The song changed.  _ Killer queen _ started to play. She turned towards Anthony and took his glasses off. Then leaned forward and kissed him, with a hand resting on his chest. She put some weight on him, making the boy lean backwards until he was lying on his back with Anathema on top. This should be a yes. She kept kissing him deeply, her fingertips reaching his neck and making his whole body pay attention to all the areas of contact between them. The girl didn’t move away when she felt him getting hard against her thigh. For the teen, this was enough to turn off his brain and make him focus on Anathema and the song playing on the background. 

There was a sudden rush of adrenaline when she kissed his neck. He inhaled loudly and moved his hand up to touch her breast. This was the first time they had done anything more than kissing and hugging, so Anthony’s head was going a thousand miles per hour, but it seemed to be going nowhere. Stuck in the sensation, but exploding with it. She clearly moved her leg just to press against his crotch, which gave him the permission needed to continue caressing her breast. Slowly, his other hand moved to her arse. They didn’t notice when the song changed to  _ Fat bottomed girls _ . Should he say anything? Should they define some boundaries for what they were doing or were they supposed to know when to stop? Because the door was open, Anthony’s mother was downstairs preparing dinner, and his father should arrive at any minute.

But the whole thing didn’t escalate much more. Anthony was too scared to touch her anywhere else and be reprimanded for it. It felt like something he should ask her first, and they weren’t speaking at the moment. She didn’t try anything else, so they just kept making out, enjoying those new sensations, that new freedom to explore, until there was a knock on the door.

But the door was open, so of course, the knock was just to make them stop.

Anathema rolled to the side, then sat up quickly. Anthony also sat up and immediately crossed his legs. Both their cheeks went red in a second. His mother was at the door, holding a letter and giving them a frown.

The song ended and  _ Bicycle race  _ started to play.

“Door was,” he tried to say, but his voice failed. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Door was open.”

“Didn’t seem to embarrass you much,” his mother said, entering the room. She left the letter on his desk and sighed. The look on her face left little hope that there wouldn’t be a talk later that night. “This one arrived today.”

“Oh, okay, thanks.”

She shook her head in disapproval and walked out of the room without another word. Once she left, they both started laughing.

“I thought she’d kick me out,” Anathema said, chuckling.

Anthony laughed as well and stood up to take the letter. It was from Aziraphale, of course. No one else sends him letters.

“She only gave me two rules. Open door and never alone in the house. No rules were broken.”

“I feel like she’s gonna update those rules.”

“Definitely,” he agreed, still laughing, but with his attention slowly drifting to the letter.

He opened the envelope with ease and unfolded the paper inside.

“Are you really going to leave me here to read that right now? Can’t you do that later?”

Anthony looked up at her, barely registering her words. His head was already repeating  _ Dear Anthony _ and anxious for the rest. Any attempt to get his focus right now would be silly, and Anathema knew him too well to insist.

“Sorry, what?”

She shook her head and stood up, taking her backpack to put on her shoulder. Without saying her words again, the girl approached him to kiss him goodbye.

“Nothing. I said it’s late and I have to go. You could at least wait until you’re not hard anymore to read that,” she whispered, brushing her hand over his crotch.

He felt a shiver down his spine and would’ve kissed her again if she hadn’t stepped forward to go to the door.

“Aren’t you staying for dinner? Mum is…”

“Dinner would be awkward after this. See you at school?”

“Sure. Yes. Do you want me to take you to the door?”

“I know the way.”

She winked at him and left the bedroom. Anthony heard her saying goodbye to his mother downstairs and then his mind was lost to the world. The song changed again.  _ You’re my best friend _ began to play.

_ Dear Anthony, _

_ Something happened today at school, but I can’t tell you through the letter. I really wanna tell you. It’s something good, really good, so don’t worry. I’m so excited to tell you! Summer seems so far away, though. _

_ Here at home things are a bit rough. Mum is getting angry at my father for drinking. I’m sure you’ve noticed. We’ll talk about that too when you come, if you wanna hear me. I feel like I wanna talk about it now. _

_ I’m trying to convince my parents to get me a phone, but they said I have to be 16 because that’s when Gabriel got his. Which is silly, I think. That was ten years ago! No one had phones at the time. I’ll still write you letters even with the phone, if you don’t mind. I like writing and getting letters from you. But I feel like I can have more privacy with the phone. I’d be able to tell you the news if that was the case. _

_ How’s Anathema? You said she’s now officially your girlfriend. Good! I’m happy for you. _

_ With love, _

_ Aziraphale _

Anthony pulled a chair and took his pen and a sheet of paper. He wouldn’t be able to send the letter until next day, but he always liked to write the answer right away.

_ Dear Angel, _

_ Now I’m gonna be curious about those news for the entire time until I get there. If you want, I can pay you a visit during a weekend. We don’t have to wait that much. It’s just a couple of hours away. It’s silly that we have to wait that long. Also, you have to come visit me someday, I told you. But I hope you get a phone soon. _

_ Yes, I noticed the thing about your father, but I thought you should be the one to decide whether you wanna talk about it or not. I’ll listen, of course. I’ll listen to whatever you wanna say. _

_ I met a guy at school. In the greenhouse. His name is Fred. He borrowed me his Queen album and you know what? These songs are actually awesome. The one I’m listening reminds me of you. _

_ Anathema is doing great. I think we’re starting to move forward. We’ve done some new things. I’ll tell you there. _

_ But you got me super curious, Angel. _

_ With love, _

_ Anthony _

He read it again and again to make sure his answer was okay and then folded the paper. Just like basically everything he had to remember, he placed the letter on his note board so he wouldn’t forget to take it with him the next day to send it through the mail. Anthony was staring at it when his father knocked on the door to announce himself.

Still wearing his suit, Mr. Crowley entered the room and stopped near Anthony’s desk. His uneasy stance hinted what was the subject of the conversation.

Anthony’s mother obviously told him about the incident with Anathema. Now he’d have some talk.

“So… son.”

Anthony blinked and said nothing.

“Your mother said…” It was painful to watch him try to look anywhere but at Anthony to find the right words. “Your mother said that she had to witness some… intimate scene between you and Anathema. And we’re worried that you… well, you two…” He cleared his throat. “I mean, we already talked to you about sexuality and…”

“We didn’t have sex, dad.”

“I know. I know, Anthony. What I mean to say is… we know we cannot tell you what to do about your life. We won’t. But we know a little bit about life to give you some advice. We know that if we tell you not to have sex and forbid you to do it, you will just find another place and lie to us, if that’s what you wanna do. So I’m telling you as your father but also as an older man who’s been through teenage years. You don’t have to lie to us. You can call her over and you can close your door when you’re 16 without telling us anything. Believe me when I tell you that you’re too young to understand fully what you’re doing and you might regret. Or maybe you have a completely different head and you feel ready and she feels ready. In this case, we want you to tell us and talk to us. And make sure she talks to her parents too. But if you don’t know, if you’re just curious, if you’re acting on you hormones, wait until you’re at least 16. And there’s a bunch of other things you can do in the meanwhile.”

Anthony was slightly confused by the sudden burst of words coming out of his embarrassed father.

“So I can have sex with her, but I also can’t?”

“We’re just asking you to be honest with us. To trust us. That’s all. And wear condoms.”

“We weren’t planning on having sex, dad.”

“Sure. But I know how it is. If you need to talk, I’m here. Don’t do things behind our back.”

“I didn’t, the door was open.”

“I know. I’m not saying you did something wrong. You didn’t. Just…”

“I understand. Okay.”

His father breathed in relief so he wouldn’t have to explain it further. With a smile, clearly proud of himself for getting over with this, he relaxed his shoulders.

“Come on, dinner is ready.”

Anthony stood up and stopped the music. The CD was halfway through  _ Don’t stop me now. _

“But how am I going to do the other bunch of things if the door is open?” he asked, stopping at the door.

His father froze on the spot.

“Keep it unlocked at least. And don’t you dare think I’m somehow giving you ideas.”

Anthony chuckled and walked out.

“Sure, dad. Thanks.”

Anthony didn’t have plans to really lose his virginity with Anathema. Not yet while his head was stuck in Aziraphale. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys notice his name is Fred? Because that's important. :)


	7. No one special

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It didn't take long this time, did it? It's because I'm ill. Yay. But I'm feeling a lot better. And I'll have my vacations soon, so regular updates yaay.

Anthony didn’t want to give Fred his CD back. After the week he spent hearing Queen songs in his room, it seemed like the place would be incomplete without that sound. He asked his parents for an album, and they promised to give him as a gift if he did well in his Math test. It was a great way to make him study, although incentives worked only to force him to sit down and give it his best. It didn’t mean that his grades would reflect his effort.

Fred found him after class to retrieve the CD. Anthony was walking hand in hand with Anathema. She’d go home and he’d go take care of his plants, but first they’d make out in a safe spot near the greenhouse. Or so was the plan.

“Crowley, right?” Fred said, with a lollipop in his mouth, playing with it like it was a cigarette. This time he was wearing a black t-shirt, but it was just as tight as the white one from last week.

“Hm, yes. Uh, this is…”

“Anathema,” she hurried to say, extending her hand to him.

He sent her a smile and took her hand. Anthony should’ve been worried about this, but his feelings were weirdly mixed and difficult to understand.

“You’re his girlfriend?” he asked.

“Yes, we’re dating, yes,” she answered.

“You’re both very lucky,” he complimented, winking at her. “You were going to the greenhouse?”

“Uh, I have the CD here,” Anthony started, reaching for his bag.

Fred stopped him.

“I have some time, we can go there and maybe listen the CD a bit, just hang out.”

“Actually, we were..”

“Sure,” Anathema interrupted. “It will be a pleasure.”

He wasn’t sure of what was happening, but he liked Fred’s presence, so he didn’t argue with that. It was just too weird that Anathema was that eager to be around the older boy. Often it was Aziraphale who explained Anthony what he was feeling. It was hard to put into words and to understand his thoughts. When you name a sensation, it becomes true to you, but it’s not always true to your brain. Sometimes we name a feeling “anger” because naming it “sadness” will make it even worse. When it comes to Anthony, though, more often than not, he didn’t really know what was the name of his sensations.

What he knew, however, was that Fred and Anathema were equally pretty. And that none of them came close to how pretty Aziraphale was. But why was he making that comparison? He had no idea.

They headed to the greenhouse, which was in the back of the school. They entered after Fred, who headed to the table where there was a power plug. From his backpack, he took a small CD player and placed it in between the plant pots that Anthony had left there the day before.

“CD, please,” said Fred.

Anthony quickly reached for the borrowed Queen album and handed it to him. As soon as the lid was closed, Bohemian Rhapsody started to play loud, with its sound enclosed by the greenhouse. The brunette closed his eyes in pleasure with the music, smiling and singing along.

“Hm, you know what it’s better than listening to Queen? Queen and a cigarette.”

He pulled his pack of cigars from the front of his backpack and lit one. He moaned in pleasure when the first breath of smoke left his mouth.

Anthony looked at Anathema to check her reaction about the boy smoking. Surprisingly, she didn’t seem angry. Instead, she looked rather interested.

“So, you two. Since when you guys are dating?”

He jumped to sit on the table behind him. Anthony pulled a chair, and Anathema sat on a bench in between them.

“Uh, I guess it’s been… like four months?” Anthony answered.

“Something like that, yes,” she confirmed.

“Hm, my last girlfriend left me for another girl,” he told them, releasing some smoke while he spoke.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be, my boy. She’s a lot happier now. Isn’t that what we all want? Also, her girlfriend is super hot, and we all make out often.”

Anathema left out a giggle.

“You and the other two? They allow you in?”

“They asked me to. What? They are good friends. It’s alright if the three parts are into it. Which is quite rare. People have these silly ideas about dating meaning property. Of course, some people really don’t like to share, but how much of it was put in their heads?” he said, holding the cigarette between two fingers.

“I suppose that if everyone wants it, why not?” agreed Anthony, not putting too much thought into it. It’s not like he knew what it was like. He hadn’t done more than touch Anathema’s breast.

“So you’re single now,” Anathema guessed.

“Can you believe it?” answered Fred, throwing her a wink. “I’m not too keen on dating anyone right now. I’m too young. There’s a lot of fun I still wanna have before commitment. You can never know if you’re not missing something out.”

“Maybe you’re missing… companionship. Trust. Love,” she said, folding her arms in front of her chest.

“You don’t miss those things. You can have them your whole life. Get married at 30, 40, 50. But youth only comes once. You’ll never be 15 again.”

“What if the love of your life passes you by?” she insisted, “What if they are here while you are young and you reject them because of what you’re saying?”

“I would be truly heartbroken, indeed. Just as heartbroken as I would be if I reach the age of 35 with a wife I don’t love, and I look behind to see that my life was boring and there’s a shit ton of things I wish I had done. Which risk do you wanna take?” He kept looking at her as he inhaled the smoke of the cigarette and released it slowly.

Anathema shrugged. She didn’t have an answer for that. Anthony knew she was the romantic type. The risk she was willing to take was quite obvious. But Anthony himself wasn’t so sure.

“By the way, I’m gonna be 17 in two weeks,” he said, changing the subject, “and I’m throwing a party at home. So if you wanna come, both of you…”

“Sure,” Anthony hurried to answer.

“We’ll think about it,” Anathema corrected, then turned to Anthony. “Crowley, love. I’m going home. Call me?”

“Okay.”

She leaned forward to peck on his lips, then waved Fred goodbye and left the greenhouse. Both of the boys stood there, watching her leave.

“Your girlfriend is really hot.”

Anthony frowned at him and rolled his eyes.

“Oi, don’t get me wrong,” Fred said, giggling. “You’re hot too, my boy. And I know you think the same of me.”

Anthony felt his face warming up and could only hope that his cheeks weren’t getting visibly blushed.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“I really doesn’t. So, did you like Queen?”

“I did. I’ve asked my parents to give me an album,” he answered, excited, “I love it.”

Fred smiled and sucked the cigarette again, looking at the other.

“Nice. Queen has the best songs to make love to.”

Anthony looked away and pocketed his hands. Fred probably noticed how he tried not to stare at him.

“But you wouldn’t know,” Fred said, “because you’ve never had sex, right?”

“We’re working on it,” Anthony confessed. “I mean, we’re… learning things.”

Fred jumped from the table where he was sitting and with a single, smooth movement, pulled a chair and sat right in front of Anthony.

“You want some tips?”

“Tips?”

“I bet you had  _ the talk _ with your parents and you surely go online for videos and stuff, but you know what people don’t tell you? How to be really good at it.”

“And you think you are really good at it?” Anthony mocked.

Fred smirked and leaned backwards on the chair with his legs crossed, and the cigarette between his fingers, his chest stuffed.

“Didn’t I say that my ex-girlfriend and her girlfriend call me often to participate? Listen, I can answer all your questions. And teach you some tricks.”

Anthony stared at him, pondering. He bit his lower lip, tapped his fingers on his thin legs and sighed.

“Whatever, sure. What can you tell me?”

“First thing: don’t rush. Women need time. Sure your dick gets hard when the wind blows on your pants, but girls need touch and patience. And it’s better to just… let them crave it for a bit. Just a bit. You’ll know how much. And then, when you put your hands in her panties, you’ll thank me for this. She’ll be super wet.”

Anthony really didn’t need any of that mental image for his hormones to kick in and remind the boy that he was a horny teenager. Imagining it was way too much.

“What if she isn’t?” he asked, crossing his legs.

“Start over. But she’ll be. If you feel like she’s into it, she’ll be ready. Of course, don’t go straight into penetration. Use your fingers. And don’t be one of those dicks who can’t find their clit even if their lives depend on it. Look through some pics in the internet so you know what you’re looking for. And then you just…” he lifted a finger and started making small movements with it in the air, circling in different speeds. “Check if she’s enjoying, listen to her moans, keep doing whatever you’re doing if she’s having fun, don’t change it. You’ll feel her clit getting harder and, if you’re lucky and pay close attention, you might feel it pulsating right before she comes.”

Anthony’s cheeks were blushed and he wasn’t even embarrassed. It was just blood going everywhere. His hard on wasn’t the kind that just happens and gets you in awkward situations. It was the kind that gets you horny and sensitive.

“You seem to know a lot about that,” Anthony commented, not trying to hide how his body felt about the description. Of course Fred knew he was a 15 year old that takes lots of showers.

“I was your age when I had my first time, to be honest,” Fred answered, shrugging. “Then, a couple of months later, I had my first time with a dude. Quite different,” he added, eyeing Anthony to catch his reaction to this information.

“Is it? I mean… I know it is.” He took a deep breath and looked down at his legs, escaping the boy’s eyes. “How does it work? With men? Not that I need to know, since I’m dating Anathema. I’m bisexual and I’m curious, that’s all.”

Fred smiled and gave up on his cigarette, which was only half burned.

“Men don’t need that much time with preparation. Just like you are right now, men get hard at the thought of sex. Not that women don’t, but… it’s easier with us. Specially at our age. Women can come lots of times, so you don’t need to worry too much, but we need to use our time wisely. But here’s the catch: we know how to touch men. We know how it works down there. How it feels. So giving head is a lot easier than licking pussy. And it’s quite fun too. Also, you know when the other guy is ready. You can feel it over their trousers. Of course you need some lube for that, but there’s also the anal play. Personally, I’m more of a top. So I love fingering dudes and shagging them. It’s beautiful when you find a guy who just goes crazy.”

Anthony was quite aware that Fred was not only doing him the favour of explaining these things, but mostly having fun with the boy curling on the chair and squirming in agony.

“But have you tried it? Being the bottom?” he asked.

“I did, yes, many times. You can’t just do one thing. But I see that some men are just more sensitive than others. Some men can come from anal alone. I’m not like that. I wish I was. Have you tried fingering yourself?”

This time Anthony was blushing also because he was embarrassed, but there would be no way to tell, since he was still red because of all the talk.

“I didn’t, no. Not like that.”

Fred leaned on the chair and pulled another cigarette from his pack.

“You should try it. It’s nice. Who knows, maybe you’re one of those sensitive boys.”

Anthony’s mind was traveling all the way to Aziraphale. Had he tried this? Was he  _ sensitive _ ? Would he be a bottom or a top when he first sleeps with a man? What kind of man Aziraphale likes?

“You might need some tips on how to control yourself, though,” Fred continued, while Anthony’s struggled to let go of Aziraphale to return to the present conversation. “Or you’ll come as soon as Anathema touches you.”

“That’s how I imagine it happening, yes.”

“Are you planning to have sex with her?”

“I’ll wait until we’re both 16. But we can do other stuff, I guess,” he answered.

“Good, you can practice, then. Think of something else. Ugly things. It will help you.”

Anthony rarely chooses what to think of, but maybe the fact that his mind wanders around constantly would be a good thing now. And honestly, his head was already going back to Aziraphale, like a boomerang. It doesn’t matter how many times you throw it forward, it always goes back to the same point.

What if Aziraphale sleeps with another guy? Well, that was bound to happen, right? He was gay and quite handsome. Apart from some pressure from his family, if he was careful, they wouldn’t find out. And even if it takes a lot of time, one day his best friend would find love or simply get horny enough. It would happen. Someone would do all those things to him. Give him head, look up at him, watch him moaning, hear his groans. Finger him or be fingered by him. Hold his waist and fuck him. Or bounce on his lap.

“Crowley?” Fred called.

Anthony blinked a few times, swallowed hard and looked at the other. For a moment, he feared that Fred could read minds, because he was smirking like he knew exactly what he was thinking of.

“You’re not imagining Anathema, are you?” he guessed. “Who’s the guy?”

Anthony squirmed on the chair, trying to find a better position for his legs, but even the smallest movement was enough to stimulate his erection.

“No one special,” he answered, quickly trying to hide Aziraphale’s name, but forgetting to deny that he wasn’t thinking of Anathema.

“Seems to be someone really special.”

Fred got up and walked towards Anthony, then around him. He knelt behind the chair to be at the right height to speak right into his ear.

“Is he fucking you or are you fucking him?”

Anthony could feel the air from his mouth on the back of his neck. A shiver made him curl a bit. He pressed one leg against the other, giving himself some stimulation in the process. Closing his eyes, he pictured it was Aziraphale behind him, and he was sitting on his lap.

“He’s fucking me,” Anthony confessed.

“Interesting. He must be really good at it. You’re sweating. Almost like you know exactly how he must feel inside of you.”

Anthony clenched his fists. Perhaps he had too much knowledge of how Aziraphale looks like naked, because even though he didn’t know how it feels to be shagged, he knew exactly his size and how he’d be looking like in that situation. His imagination was too real and close to reality. I can only feel good. So good, that Anthony can’t hold himself back.

With a low, repressed groan, he felt his pants getting wet as the relief for all that pressured down there came. His whole body relaxed before he started panting.

“Someone truly special indeed,” said Fred, chuckling. “You need a shag, boy. But I’m not sure if it’s Anathema you want.”

Fred took his backpack, held his cigarette between his lips and packed his CD player.

“Don’t forget. In 15 days. My birthday. I’ll send you the address. I’ve got to go. This was fun.”

He winked at the reddish Anthony, still speechless and panting on the chair. Fred left him there, more confused than he had ever been in his life. And with a certain plan for when he gets home and takes the shower that he surely needs desperately right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're starting to move up with the rating. By the way, someone is gonna be writing a "coming out" letter.


	8. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter 8 which is called 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would strongly recommend reading this chapter while listening to the song. You'll understand.

There were several ripped off sheets of paper on Anthony’s desk. They were all attempts of letters that he’d send Aziraphale. Lately there wasn’t much to tell him, if he disconsiders all the thoughts he’s had about his best friend and the sudden desperate interest for sex with men. There was, of course, the fact that his make out sessions with Anathema got a lot more heated up. Anthony was learning quickly how to make her come, and unsurprisingly, it wasn’t difficult for him to come either. This would be a relevant fact to write about. If he wasn’t in love with Aziraphale and all those new things he was doing weren’t kind of dull compared to the dopamine his brain releases when he thinks of his Angel.

It was the day of Fred’s birthday party. His parents had no idea of what kind of party this was - the kind that has minors drinking alcohol without permission and surely quite a bit of drugs circulating. He still had one hour before the mail closes and he really wanted to send that letter before the party.

His previous attempts were all over the place.

<strike> Dear Angel, </strike>

<strike> That friend I talked about, Fred. The one that borrowed me the Queen album? We’re closer now. Anathema likes him too. Maybe a bit too much. I’m not jealous, though. He’s good looking, I can see why she’d find him attractive. By the way, I also like boys, so </strike>

<strike> Dear Angel. </strike>

<strike> You know that friend who borrowed me the Queen CD? He’s throwing a birthday party and he invited me and Anathema. He’s quite handsome. You’d like him. Or maybe not. Anathema likes him, and I like him too. I find him handsome. Like, really hot, and </strike>

  
  


<strike> Dear Angel, </strike>

<strike> I’m bisexual and I’m in love with you. I’m stupid. Please don’t sleep with someone else. </strike>

  
  


<strike> Dear angel, </strike>

<strike> Remember that guy I talked about? The one that borrowed me the Queen album (which is awesome, you really should look into that)? He’s throwing a birthday party today. He invited me and Anathema. </strike>

<strike> By the way, did I tell you that he’s older? He’s had sex many times. With both men and women. So he was telling me how it is and giving me tips. I used quite a few with Anathema and it worked very well. But we haven’t had proper sex yet. </strike>

<strike> He also told me about sleeping with boys. Got me wondering. I mean, I </strike>

Dear Angel,

<strike> **GOD HELP ME I WANNA SIT ON YOUR FACE** </strike>

_ Dear Angel, _

_ I’m going to Fred’s birthday party tonight. He’s really cool. Anathema is coming with me. Oh, our relationship is going good. My mom caught us alone in my bedroom a couple of weeks ago. We weren’t doing anything. I was going to tell you during summer, but things are happening fast, so try no to let your parents read this. But my father came to talk to me and he allowed me to close the door but not lock it. Fred gave me some tips on how to make out with girls. And we’re doing it. Not the whole thing, but you know. _

_ Fred also gave me tips about men. He’s bisexual. Of course I’m not gonna use those tips, since I’m with Anathema, but he just kept talking. About being top or bottom and all those details. Do you have any idea of what you might be? _

_ I really miss you. _

_ With love, _

_ Anthony _

He read the letter again and again and more than once considered throwing it away. What a coward way to tell his best friend that he was bisexual.  _ He’s bisexual _ . He could tell about Fred, but he was leaving the information about himself  _ implied _ . Aziraphale told him almost a year ago that he was gay. There, right in his face. No second thoughts. It felt so terribly wrong to just act like Aziraphale knew and keep going with it.

So he tried it once again. The first part of the letter was exactly like the previous one. But the rest was changed.

_ Fred also gave me tips about men. Although I’m with Anathema, I’ve had this curiosity for quite a while now, and I think I like boys too. Of course I’m not gonna use those tips, since I’m with a girl, but he just kept talking about being top or bottom and all those details. Do you have any idea of what you might be? _

_ I really miss you. _

_ With love, _

_ Anthony _

He put the letter in the envelope before he could read it again and panic about it.

  
  


* * *

The letter was sent and Anthony pretended like his words didn’t stay in his head while he prepared for the party. Truth was, when he was at the party, the fact that soon Aziraphale would read that he was bisexual was like an irritating drop of cold water constantly dripping and running down his spine to make him shiver.

Fred’s home wasn’t like he expected it to be. But then again, what did he expect? A basement where the young rebel keeps his Queen albums? He goes to private school, the same Anthony does, so the big, comfortable house - now taken over by a bunch of older and loud people - made a lot of sense.

It wasn’t just Queen playing in the background, though their songs were always present. Velvet underground, Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Pink Floyd and Ramones were there too. Everyone dressed like they could be part of any of these bands. They all had either beers or some pink drink in their hands. The sound was amazing, and everyone looked really cool. But he couldn’t see Fred anywhere, so he went to the kitchen with Anathema to get something to drink.

They had some energy drink, the pink stuff and beer. That was basically it. Well, there was water in the tap too.

“You’re not drinking, are you?” asked Anathema “Your parents would kill you.”

Anthony frowned. What, lose his only chance to see what’s so fun about alcohol? People his age were already drinking, what’s the problem? 

“Come on, if my parents were here, I’d be one year away from legally drinking. One year can’t make such a difference, Anathema” he complained.

“Yes, but your parents are  _ not _ here.”

“Lucky me.”

He grabbed a cup and filled it with the pink drink, then took a long gulp - which he immediately regretted, because it burned his throat and made him cough. Anathema laughed and folded her arms in front of her chest, making her best “I told you so” face.

“It’s tasty, you just need to appreciate it slowly,” he justified, taking another sip of the drink. “It’s strawberry.”

“It’s alcohol with flavor, Crowley.”

“Strawberry flavor,” he insisted, winking at her. “Taste it. Come on.”

She hesitated, but since Crowley was doing it, she probably felt like it would be okay - she wasn’t the only minor here getting alcohol. So she took a sip from Crowley’s cup, frowned, then sighed.

“Starts bad, then tastes good, then burns and leaves a bitter taste in the mouth,” she said.

Crowley laughed.

“We have a connoisseur of bad party drinks, don’t we?”

“Shut up,” she giggled, pushing him away with a hand on his chest.

Anathema was serving herself with a cup of the pink drink when the song stopped. It didn’t end, it just stopped. Everyone looked confused, until the first notes of  _ I want to break free _ started playing. Suddenly, everyone in the house was excited and rushing to the living room, turned towards the stairs. They grouped together, but left a good space, like a stage. Anthony and Anathema simply followed the rest, not understanding what was about to happen.

It didn’t take long to understand, though. Fred appeared from the stairs wearing a black skirt and a pink shirt with fake boobs underneath, along with a wig badly adjusted on his head. He had a broom in hand, which he was using to mimic Freddie Mercury with a vacuum cleaner.

The whole house was hysterical, Anthony included. He did the hip movement with the broom, making it a lot more sexual than the original.

_ “I want to break free. I want to break free,”  _ the boy winked at the crowd cheering, and Anthony could swear it was aimed at him, “ _ I want to break free from your lies, you’re so self satisfied,”  _ he put a hand on his hip and pursed his lips and pretended to get his fake hair away from his face,  _ “I don’t need you. I’ve got to break free. God knows. God knows I want to break free.”  _

Anthony squeezed through everyone so he could get closer and see the show better. Anathema followed him, just as curious. While they did so, Fred quickly threw away his wig and the pink shirt. The fake boobs turned out to be socks. They fell over and he kept only the skirt, now with a bare chest.

_ “I’ve fallen in love,”  _ he walked near the circle of people surrounding him, running his hand over their chest, his hips swinging like a pendulum with each step, “ _ I’ve fallen in love for the first time, and this time I know it’s for real,”  _ he passed by Anthony and Anathema with a smile and continued tease the rest of the people making an edge for his “stage”, “ _ I’ve fallen in love, yeah. God knows, God knows I’ve fallen in love.” _

He ran to the center of the living room, right in front of the stairs, legs spread apart. His chest was just as strong as it looked like beneath his tight shirts. The muscles contracted as he opened his arms to sing.

_ “It’s strange but it’s true, I can’t get over the way you love me like you do,”  _ he moved his feet incredibly fast, changing position, moving his arms, pointing at the crowd, “ _ But I’ve got to be sure, when I walk out that door, oh how I want to be free, baby.”  _ He opened his arms, tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling, with his whole heart and soul being put into the song,  _ “Oh how I want to be free, oh how I want to break free!” _

Everyone was going nuts. The song could barely be heard over them cheering and yelling Fred’s name. Anthony and Anathema cheered as well. The boy was doing some air guitar now, putting on a mean face as he did so. He approached the crowd and they immediately lifted him up to be carried over everyone. It looked like he wanted to pose while doing so, but being carried like that looked a lot easier than it was, so Fred was basically laughing and hoping not to fall.

He was returned to the center of the living room in time for the next part of the song. His hair was messed up and the fake mustache was long gone, but his stance quickly changed back into Freddie Mercury.

_ “But life still goes on,”  _ he continued, taking the broom again, “ _ I can’t get used to living without, living without, living without you by my side, _ ” he moved his hips against the broom, thrusting against it,  _ “I don’t want to live alone,”  _ he bent his body, arse up in the air, making the guests behind him yell and whistle, “ _ I don’t want to live alone. God knows. Got to make it on my own!” _

Fred moved to the stairs, going up as he danced and moved his arse like he does that for a living.

_ “So baby can’t you see? I’ve got to break free. I’ve got to break free. I want, I want I want to break free!” _

He jumped 5 steps and landed right in the center to make Freddie’s pose, fist up in the air. The song ended. The crowd went crazy. Anthony’s heart was beating to the rhythm of the song. He had no chance of approaching Fred now that everyone was jumping over the guy, so he got away from everyone with Anathema, his eyes still shining.

“That was amazing!” she said, with a huge, near-laugh, smile. “Did he tell you he was going to do this?”

“No,” Anthony said, standing on the tip of his toes to try and get a look at him, but it was impossible with so many people trying to reach him.

“He’s kinda hot, isn’t he?” she said.

Anthony’s eyes escaped Fred to turn to Anathema. It wasn’t a comment that he’d expect from her. Well, not being said to him. Her cup with the pink drink was half empty now, so it was probably helping her open up. So he drank another gulp of his own before answering.

“He is, yes. I mean, he’s not just hot, he’s… I don’t know. Fun, intense.”

“Would you kiss him?” she asked.

Oh there it was. It was a trap, wasn’t it? It had to be. Half a cup of the strawberry flavored alcohol wasn’t enough for this. Lying was stupid. Saying the truth right away would cause him problems.

“In which scenario?” he asked, opting for a more specific situation.

“Any scenario. Right now. Would you kiss him?”

“Of course not. You’re my girlfriend, why would I kiss anyone else?”

She rolled her eyes, making him frown in confusion. Wasn’t that the right answer? He thought it was pretty good.

“Let’s say I let you. Would you kiss him?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

Anathema frowned and seemed to give up on the question. She drank more from her cup and started swinging her body to the next song. Anthony blinked, confused. His eyes wandered away to all the other guests, now starting to continue the party, dancing. He couldn’t help notice how they looked amazing with all the body piercings and tattoos. Their confident look while singing out loud some Led Zeppelin song was incredible. While drinking, he decided he’d ask his parents about getting a earing or maybe an eyebrow piercing.

By the time Fred approached them, Anthony had already finished his cup, as had Anathema, so he was excited about the effect of the alcohol, making him slightly dizzy. He was also dancing and yelling the songs without any hesitation or embarrassment, kissing his girlfriend every now and then. They were laughing like idiots making air guitars when Fred put his arms around both their shoulders, bringing them closer.

“Well, well. I’m glad you two came. Looks like you’re having fun.”

“That show was  _ awesome _ ,” Anthony said, pointing at Fred’s chest.

“It was incredible!” Anathema agreed. “I loved the skirt.”

“Did you?” he looked down, exhibiting the only piece of clothing he still had on, “the shirt was my mom’s but the skirt is mine. I quite like it.”

“Why do you have a skirt?” Anthony asked.

Fred giggled and stepped backwards, then swang his hips.

“Feels free,” he answered, “and I look sexy.”

“That you do,” Anthony agreed, laughing.

“You two look sexy as well. Enjoy the party. I do have a room upstairs if the couple needs one. You can always call me if you need any help too.” He winked and moved on to greet other guests.

Anthony’s heart was desperate in his chest. The sensation that the alcohol gives you is incredible, but - as he was starting to realize - quite dangerous. He couldn’t see why not propose Anathema to go upstairs and joke about calling Fred to join. A sober Anthony would never think of that. But one cup -  _ just one cup - _ of that thing and he was watching Fred’s arse as he walked away and his mouth was filling with water.

“Let’s get another drink,” Anathema said, taking his hand. Did she notice how he was staring? He couldn’t be sure. Next thing he was being dragged back to the kitchen through the crowd.

Anathema filled their cups again. If he was already giggling like an idiot because of one cup, how would be feeling after the second one?

“I see how you look at him,” Anathema said.

Anthony was swallowing the liquid when the comment was made. He choked and had to tap his chest to regain his breath.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I’m not angry, Anthony, calm the fuck down, okay?”

She moved closer and pulled him to the corner of the kitchen, away from the others who were serving themselves with drinks.

“You want to kiss a guy, don’t you?” she asked, “And don’t give me an answer you think I want to hear. Yes, you wouldn’t kiss someone else because you’re my boyfriend, I get that. But you wanna kiss a guy. Right?”

Was his relationship at risk here? He wasn’t sure. The alcohol didn’t seem to be the cause of his confusion.

“I do, yes. Well, I never kissed a guy. But I wouldn’t...”

“I know, shut up for a second. Are you drunk?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he answered. He really wasn’t. Tipsy, yes. Drunk like the guy who was sleeping near the refrigerator? Definitely not.

“Good. So here’s the thing. I wanna kiss him too.”

Anthony blinked a few times. His yellowish eyes turned a bit less bright as his pupils dilated, denouncing his interest in what Anathema was starting to propose. He drank another gulp for courage.

“You wanna kiss Fred?”

“You seriously didn’t notice?”

He had, of course. He knew she was attracted to him. And so far, he hadn’t decided what to think of it. But no, he didn’t notice that Anathema wanted to kiss him so badly that she told her boyfriend about it.

“Depends on what you consider as  _ noticing.” _

“Whatever. You wanna kiss him. I wanna kiss him. He wants to kiss us both. Zero problems, right?”

His mind went blank and he frowned at his own lack of words. There were a thousand problems about this, but he couldn’t think of a single one. Shouldn’t Anthony be jealous of Anathema? Anathema had always seemed pretty jealous of Anthony. At least regarding Aziraphale.

Oh, Aziraphale.

Why did he think of him? Now his Angel was in his mind. Yes, he wanted to kiss a guy. Ideally, Aziraphale. If he could kiss Aziraphale, surely he would never want to kiss Fred. Or anyone. It doesn’t matter who. And he’d be jealous of him. The mere idea of his best friend kissing another man was too much for his stomach. Anthony had been more jealous of his friendship with Oscar than of Anathema saying she wanted to kiss Fred.

This was all wrong, wasn’t it?

Why was he dating Anathema anyway? If he loved her, he should at least be worried about her wanting to kiss Fred. Instead, he was excited about it. Yes, that was the right feeling. He was excited. It was going to be  _ fun _ . And if she loved him, why would she suggest him to do the same?

He was best friends with the person he wanted to date, and he was dating the person who should only be his friend.

“Hey, Crowley,” Anathema called, waving a hand close to his eyes when he didn’t respond. “Earth calling.”

“Yes,” he answered, finally, “zero problems. He’ll love the idea.”

She smiled and drank a long gulp of her drink, then stood on her toes to kiss Anthony’s lips.

Why was there a problem about Aziraphale but no problem about Fred in Anathema’s point of view? He was pulled by the hand again, going upstairs with his girlfriend, and all the while he tried hard to understand what was happening here.

Did she know how he feels about Aziraphale? Even if she does, cheating is cheating, right? Even if there’s no feelings involved. Maybe it’s because she’s there to allow it? It makes sense, but she’d never allow it with Aziraphale. Perhaps she really wants to kiss Fred and has to let him do so in order to be allowed to do it. But if that’s the case, why were they still dating?

He saw her looking for Fred while going upstairs. Surely she saw him, because she waved at him, then pointed upwards. Without waiting any longer, they got to the second floor, where all the doors were locked, except three. A bathroom, a TV room and a bedroom - which judging by the posters on the walls, was Fred’s.

No one was there, surprisingly. He expected to see a few couples making out, but apparently, they were in the TV room, where some porn was being played.

They entered and sat on the bed. Anathema finished her second cup and placed it on a nightstand, by the side of a CD-player. Anthony didn’t finish his drink, but there was just a bit left in his cup. His head felt light and everything was funny and fun. The fact that the door was open didn’t stop him from moving over Anathema to kiss her, placing a hand between her thighs. She didn’t seem to mind it either.

The kiss was messy. They were giggling and aroused at the same time. He took off his own jacket, since it was limiting his movements, let his shoes fall on the floor, and crawled on top of Anathema, caging her there. People were passing by the door and ignoring the scene completely.

He kissed her neck and caressed her thighs, moving up to her shirt. She bent her knee, making it brush against Anthony’s crotch. He breathed louder and grabbed her breast.

“I’m curious to know if you’re doing as I taught you,” said Fred at the door, arms folded.

They both turned their heads towards him. Anthony rolled to the side and giggled, making it look like he didn’t feel a sudden cold in his stomach for what could happen now that Fred was here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know it's been a while without Aziraphale. He's here in the next chapter. They'll be together again :). In London. I'm just playing around with Crowley's head so he'll be completely fucked up the next time he sees his Angel, so be prepared for a melting mess.
> 
> Also: don't worry about Anathema. She's my girl. No man can fuck her up.


	9. Soho

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is back to this fic by popular demand

“You were teaching him stuff?” Anathema asked.

Fred stepped in and closed the door. He was still wearing only his black skirt, tight around his strong waist. It was impossible to tell what his hair looked like before, since it was going every direction now.

“Just a few tricks,” he shrugged, “to make sure you’re being treated well.”

_ Yes, _ Anthony thought, _ and then I came untouched thinking of Aziraphale fucking me. _

“Well, it worked. I am being treated very well,” she replied. “But I’m curious. What exactly did you teach him?”

“Basic stuff,” he sat on the bed by her side. Anthony was lying on his back behind them, watching it all, “I told him he should make sure you’re wet before touching you. I told him… I mean, I taught a lot of things, but it’s easier to show than saying. If he’ll let me.”

“It’s her body,” Anthony lifted his hands, “she allows it or not.”

With that, Fred smiled and moved towards Anathema. Anthony watched him kiss her. He watched his girlfriend leaning into the kiss. His hand moving down - and he couldn’t see where it was, but surely over her lap -, his lips going to her neck, the shivers on her skin. He watched when she moaned and guessed that his hand was under her skirt now. Was this part of the agreement? Weren’t they going to just kiss? He should be mad, shouldn’t he? Surely he shouldn’t be excited.

After all, everything she was allowing herself to do, Anthony could do as well.

She tilted her head. Her long hair reached the mattress when she did so. Fred wasn’t kissing her, just moving his right hand between her thighs. Anathema’s eyes were closed, her mouth was slightly open, and small moans kept coming out of her lips.

Fred looked at Anthony lying right behind them. There was a smile on his face. This seemed so easy for him. Pleasing a girl involved many tricks. Knowing where and how to touch, at what speed, what strength. It involved watching them closely to know if you’re doing it right. But Fred was teasing Anthony with his eyes _ while _ making Anathema’s leg tremble and her breath speed up. It was sexy how confident he was about his abilities. Almost impossible to resist. But there was no reason to resist. Anthony sat up and moved closer behind Anathema, near Fred, overwhelmed with the excitement that was confined in that room. This was not how he expected his night to go, but here he was. Close to his first kiss with a man.

And this man wasn’t Azir….

_ No. _

He wasn’t going to put himself down bringing that topic to his mind. He’d never have this opportunity again. So, right there, while Anathema was nearly having an orgasm, he kissed Fred.

It was different, definitely different from kissing a girl. His lips weren’t as soft, his skin wasn’t as delicate, his mouth was warmer and more dominant. It didn’t make Anthony wish to grab him, but to be grabbed.

He didn’t dare to stop the kiss. It was Fred who did so, because Anathema was arching her back and moaning louder. The boy kissed her neck while she came grabbing the sheets and holding her breath. The moment the orgasm ended and the sensitivity started, she closed her legs, preventing him from further moving his fingers.

She took a deep breath and started giggling. Anthony was happy for her. The fact that she moved to sit near the headboard meant that it was his turn now.

But he did what he came to do. He kissed Fred. Everything else didn’t seem as pleasant. Not in front of her. Was he curious about being sucked or touched by a man? Sure, but how would it be that different from a woman? Was he curious - and horny - about sucking Fred? A hell lot. But alone. Paying attention to him. Being there for him, not for Anathema.

Fred apparently noticed this, because all he did was move towards him to kiss him again, biting his lower lip his time - sort of a promise that he was available if he wants him - and licked his own fingers, wet from Anathema.

“I don’t mind if you…” she said, still panting.

“I know,” Anthony answered. “But I’m okay for tonight. That was really nice.”

Anathema nodded and closed her eyes.

“I’ve got to sober up before we go home.”

“You two are barely tipsy. There’s more juice than vodka in that thing. You’re okay,” Fred guaranteed, standing up.

Anthony followed him with his eyes, desperate to kiss him again. How does it feel to kiss his strong chest? How does it feel to sit on his lap? He didn’t do anything as he walked away, telling them to keep enjoying the party.

“I just need to rest a bit,” Anathema said, still smiling.

Anthony crawled up to sit by her side and take her hand. The fact that she was happy brought joy to him. But not like a boyfriend would. But a friend. He wanted to see her happy like this always.

They left the party an hour later. His parents were sleeping, so no one noticed that he had drank. After a quick shower, he lied down to sleep. As he closed his eyes he could only think that now he had more reasons not to date Anathema than he had to date her.

  
  


* * *

_ Dear Anthony, _

_ I’m happy about your relationship with Anathema. It’s nice that you’re doing new things. I’m doing new things too! But I can’t tell you right now. Tell me how the party went. _

_ It’s been hard here. Because of my dad. I might take the offer to spend a weekend in your home some time. It would be nice to just move away a bit. Gabriel is gonna spend the next summer with us too. Mum asked him to. I think he’s planning to ask his girlfriend’s hand. _

_ Newt and Michael were talking this week about college. Do you know where you intend to study? It would break my heart if we happen to study too far away. _

_ With love, _

_ Aziraphale. _

_ PS.: I’m proud of you for coming out! :) _

  
  


Anthony had many things to consider about that letter.

The first one is that, right at the beginning, he felt guilty because just a few days ago he was telling Aziraphale that things were going great with Anathema, and now he’d tell him that things weren’t going that great anymore. He had many doubts about dating her.

The second thing about that letter came right after. He was doing new things? He did tell Anthony that there was something to tell, but couldn’t be told through the letter because his parents could find out. And his parents don’t like a) sin and b) sin involving gays.

Anthony’s heart ached instantly. It was hard to keep reading the letter afterwards, so he put it down for a moment, walked in circles in his room, bit his own hand staring at the letter, and sat back at his chair to continue.

The third thing was about his father. Anthony was deeply worried after reading that Aziraphale wanted to leave the house for a weekend. Things must be getting worse.

The fourth thing was the question about the college. Anthony didn’t think he’d go to the same college as Aziraphale. Not with his grades. So maybe he could skip that topic in his answer and leave it to talk about it in person. It hurt his heart too.

And finally, the fifth thing was that Aziraphale acknowledged his bisexuality in a P.S. Like it was no big deal. Like he hadn’t suffered for a year thinking of the right moment to say it. He simply congratulated him.

“Damn you, Angel. Stop being annoyingly cute, you fucking bastard.”

He threw the letter in his drawer, along with several others. His eyes went to the calendar on top of his computer. Two months till summer. He had to see Aziraphale before that. There was no point in writing a letter now. He had to call him. Invite him over.

It was his mother who spoke to Mrs. Eaven. This way they had better chances to make this happen. After a brief discussion of when would be better for both, they agreed that Aziraphale would be spending a weekend with them in two weeks.

This had never happened, despite the fact that they knew each other for a decade now. When Aziraphale visits London, it’s always with his parents. They meet somewhere, have some ice cream, and then say goodbye. He never stayed for the night. Which brings up a small, but pertinent concern.

Would they be sharing a bed?

Probably not. His parents didn’t know that they kept doing this when they were no longer children, and might think it’s weird. Who knows, maybe make some awkward comments. And this had to stop at some point, right? They had to stop sharing a bed someday.

But just the thought of cuddling up to Aziraphale and smelling his scent as he falls asleep was enough to make Anthony’s heart beat faster and his cheeks flush.

Before the day of his visit arrived, he went out with Anathema a couple of times, aside from the time spent at school. Nothing had changed, and yet, everything changed. For both of them.

“So when Aziraphale is coming again?” asked Anathema, sitting on a bench in the greenhouse.

Fred had already spent a while with them earlier. After his birthday, none of them had commented on the “three person make out session”. Not as if it was a difficult or touchy subject, but rather it seemed like none of the three cared. In fact, if anything, they were all playfully flirting with each other. It was healthy and fun, but it also made his doubts about his relationship even more relevant.

Anthony told them both that his best friend was coming to visit. Fred said he wanted to meet him, but Anthony was quick to say no, under the excuse that “Angel wasn’t his type”. He really wasn’t, but the real reason wasn’t clear to Anthony at first. The idea of Fred being introduced to Aziraphale seemed horrible in his head. It wasn’t until Fred left and only Anathema stayed there in the greenhouse with him that he understood the problem.

He was obviously jealous and worried that Fred would flirt with Aziraphale.

“He’ll be here this weekend,” he answered, spraying some plants with water.

“Why?”

Anthony frowned, but the sunglasses made it impossible for her to see it.

“Because he’s my friend, he’s gonna come and visit me.”

“I get that,” said Anathema, sighing. “I mean, why now? You’ve been friends since forever, he never came.”

Anthony shrugged.

“He needs to help in the farm. His brother is not living there anymore. His father…” he stopped for a moment, lost in thoughts. “His father is kinda busy. So his mother never let him come after he was old enough. And now he says he needs to see me.”

Anathema nodded, biting her lower lip, her eyes vaguely watching her feet.

“So something happened?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, honestly. “Maybe.”

“Where is he going to sleep?”

Anthony’s hand clenched around the water bottle. He turned his whole body towards her, angry.

“Is that your concern?” he asked. “Why? Are you worried I’m gonna make out with him?”

Anathema lowered her shoulders, clearly shocked by Anthony’s reaction. The kind of response you get when something has been bothering you for a while, and the question comes as the last drop to make him explode.

“I know you won’t,” she claimed, folding her arms in front of his chest.

“Then stop asking me these things. No, he won’t sleep with me.”

He turned back to the plants and cursed when he noticed that there wasn’t enough water in the bottle anymore. He moved to the sink to fill it again while Anathema observed him.

“You’ve been nervous lately. Is this about…”

“No,” he answered quickly, “no, this isn’t about Fred. I couldn’t care less. I’m worried about Angel. He said he has a problem with his father, that’s all.”

“Are you sure it’s not…”

Anthony interrupted her with a sigh, tilting his head back, annoyed.

“It’s not. Okay? It’s not. I had fun. I enjoyed it. Probably as much as you. I promise I’m not nervous because of Fred or anything regarding him.”

Anathema stood up from the bench and walked to Anthony. He stayed exactly where he was, near the sink, with the bottle of water already filled, while she came closer and kissed his cheek.

“I hope everything is alright with Aziraphale, then. He’s the one who’s supposed to look after you, isn’t he? I’m going home. Call me later when you arrive so I know you’re okay.”

Anthony didn’t answer. She picked up her bag and left the greenhouse, leaving him alone with his plants to talk to them as if they could answer.

They couldn’t, but maybe that’s what he truly wanted. Because Aziraphale was really the one who could look after him, no one else.

* * *

When the weekend came, Anthony woke up before everyone in the house. Not because he wanted, but his brain wouldn’t shut up about Aziraphale’s arrival. It was stupid, since he wouldn’t arrive before 10 am, which left the boy walking around the house impatiently and bored for four hours.

His father had brought the mattress from the guest room to his bedroom when Anthony said they’d be staying in the same room. No questions were asked. His mother put clean sheets on the mattress and prepared pillows and blankets. Everything was ready and waiting for Aziraphale.

He even made a point to hide his silly sketches where he drew him and Aziraphale. Nothing very compromising, just them being friends together. The ones where he tortures himself drawing them as lovers never lasted more than a few seconds after they were done. His stomach aches and he throws it away after ripping the paper. Still, he didn’t want the Angel to see that he draws them when he’s alone, like he did when they were children.

They went to the station to pick him up. Not having someone to drive was one of the reasons why the boy never came to London without his parents. His mother wouldn’t let him take the train by himself until now.

Anthony was the first to see him. He was a little lost, looking everywhere, searching for known faces, while people passed by, carrying luggage and talking loudly. Anthony’s heart was beating so fast upon seeing him that he could only curse himself for how much time he had spent thinking of his best friend, causing his devotion to grow to the point of making him feel like a stupid teenager seeing their crush at school, and not his best friend. He wasn’t like this last summer.

“Angel!” he yelled, waving his hand.

Aziraphale’s face lit up and he rushed towards him. He was wearing brown trousers, a pastel blue shirt and a waistcoat. Not exactly what you’d expect from a teenager, but exactly what Anthony would expect from him.

They hugged each other tightly. Aziraphale’s hugs were always the best hugs. It was soft, warm, and seemed to share his whole happiness with him. And there was also his smell. So familiar, so nostalgic. It brought a cozy feeling to Anthony’s heart.

_ I’m so fucked _, he thought, feeling electricity run through his body at each point where their skin met during the hug.

Mr. Crowley took Aziraphale’s luggage and they were taken back to his residence.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened as he entered Anthony’s room for the first time. He took his time watching everything closely. His Queen posters, his games, his books on gardening, his desk. And the boy didn’t seem to mind or even to notice the mattress on the floor, where he was supposed to sleep, instead of sharing a single bed with his friend. He was clearly amazed by the whole place.

And Anthony wasn’t far behind. Having him in his room for the first time in a decade was quite bizarre. But in a good way. Like forcing universes to collide. His normal, boring life in London and the best moments of his life in the farm.

“Do you like it?” Anthony asked, hiding his hands in his pockets.

“I love it, my dear. It’s very you.”

Anthony’s stomach felt like it was doing a back flip to win the winter Olympics.

_ What is wrong with me, it’s just Aziraphale! _ said the voice in his head.

_ Yes, but if you remove a few words from that sentence he says ‘I love you’ _ the other voice in his head answered.

He cleared his throat, probably trying to shut the voices in his head and focus on the present moment.

“So, do you wanna talk or….” he asked.

“Later,” Aziraphale quickly answered.

“Okay,” Anthony agreed, knowing they were both talking about Aziraphale’s father. “I’ve selected a few of my favorite places in London to show you. We can start from there.”

“That would be lovely, my dear.”

“Nice. We can go now or I can wait you change your clothes…”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” he asked, looking down at his waistcoat that was likely on the family for a few decades. Centuries, perhaps.

“It’s London, Angel. No one dresses like that. Try going for something more… stylish.”

Aziraphale stuffed his chest and pursed his lips.

“Waistcoats are stylish,” he assured, proudly.

Anthony rolled his eyes, took his wallet, phone and walked to the door.

“They surely were. In Victorian London. Come on, we’re going to Soho.”

Aziraphale quickly followed Anthony. Mrs. and Mr. Crowley weren’t surprised that the two had barely arrived home and were already leaving.

“Is Soho that place you said you’d take me when we’re older?” Aziraphale asked, a few steps behind Anthony, struggling to keep up the pace with his shorter steps.

Anthony had to force his mind to remember. Yes, when Aziraphale told him he was gay, all he could do to make sure his friend knew without a doubt that there was no problem with the information was to say he’d take him to Soho.

“Yes, that’s the place. We’re not yet quite old enough for the pubs. Though I’m sure Fred could get us in somehow…” he babbled, letting his mind wander as he spoke.

“Am I going to meet Fred?” Aziraphale questioned. They had stopped at the bus stop.

“No,” Anthony hurried to say, “he’s very busy this weekend. Shame. Anyway...there are better things for you to see.”

Aziraphale didn’t insist. He just smiled - that sweet innocent smile of wonder - and waited to get on the bus with him. They sat side by side, and Anthony really tried very hard to pretend he wasn’t blushing because the back of their hands was touching in between them.

_ Seriously? You’ve slept with this boy for 10 years. Stop being so stupid. It’s just his hand, _said the voice in his head.

“Did you tell your parents that you’re…” Aziraphale started.

The subject, brought from nowhere, caught him by surprise, since he was focused on fighting the voices in his head.

“Hm?”

“Bi,” he answered, shortly.

“I did, yes.”

“How did they react?”

Anthony had to remember. What did they say? Nothing very shocking, surely. Nothing memorable enough. But he had to be careful with his answer. The topic was difficult for Aziraphale.

“They didn’t mind. It was okay. Like it has to be.”

Aziraphale nodded with a nervous smile.

“Can you ask them not to tell my parents?”

“About you?”

“About you,” Aziraphale answered, “or mum won’t let me see you again. And about me too, sure. If they know.”

“They know,” Anthony said, “but I didn’t tell them.”

Aziraphale frowned.

“Who told them?”

The bus stopped. Anthony giggled and stood up, holding on the metal bars.

“It was kinda obvious, honestly.”

Shocked, Aziraphale almost stayed behind. He yelled at the driver to wait another second so he could get off and jumped from the bus. Panic was all over his features.

“What do you mean it was obvious?” he asked, rushing after Anthony in tiny but quick steps.

He knew why Aziraphale was panicking. If it was obvious, then his mother would find out, right? But Anthony knew better. With homophobic parents, they usually do all they can to ignore the facts. Aziraphale was so obviously gay that _ not knowing _ was a choice. If they don’t know by now, they’ll never know, regardless of what he does. He wasn’t sure if this meant they really were ignorant of the fact of if they were okay with their son being gay but not acting on it, just pretending to be straight, and the more they ignore the issue, the more closeted he gets.

Which is quite sad. And the main reason why Anthony brought Aziraphale to a street where most shops have pride flags hanging on their doors.

“Don’t worry too much about it,” said Anthony going straight for his favorite ice cream shop. It was just across the street, at a distance that was ideal so that the ice cream doesn’t melt before he gets to Berkeley Square.

“Don’t worry? This is… almost everything I worry about lately,” he insisted, with his fists clenched. “You should’ve heard what she said about Oscar.”

_ Oh you should hear what I have to say about Oscar _, Anthony thought, taking a deep breath not to give away his little problem with that boy.

“She won’t find out, Angel,” Anthony assured him, stopping in front of the ice cream shop. “If hasn’t find out yet, she will never find out. Unless you tell her.”

“Never!” he gasped.

“Well, someday you’ll have to tell her, right? You’ll… have a boyfriend. Get married. She’ll have to know.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath and rubbed one hand against the other.

“I guess…”

“Ice cream. Stop worrying, Angel.”

He turned Aziraphale around by grabbing his shoulders, then pushed him inside the shop.

The lady in there already knew Anthony. She asked about Anathema and _ his other friend _Fred, then proceeded to give him his favorite strawberry Popsicle. Aziraphale went for the vanilla cream, with a biscuit on top. He was about to take a seat at the shop when Anthony took his arm.

“Hm-hm. No, we’re gonna eat somewhere else. It’s nearby.”

He took Aziraphale to the Berkeley Square. In his dreams, he’d take him here when they are older, but as it turns out, the opportunity came before he expected. Anthony secretly loved the place. His whole appeal didn’t match the bright green of the trees during summer time, nor the softer colors of fall season. The red hair and black clothes belonged to a pub, not the beautiful garden, but here is where he feels comfortable. He’d never admit it, though.

“Reminds me of the lake,” Aziraphale commented, holding the ice cream.

“It does,” Anthony agreed, now wondering if his feelings for the Berkeley Square were somehow rooted in his time spent with Aziraphale at the lake. “So, how’s the ice cream?”

“Marvelous, my dear. It’s super-dooper. Ticky-tee-boo.”

“Whatever that means,” Anthony giggled, watching his friend eat - perhaps for too long.

His eyes truly lingered on him. They were sitting on a bench, and no one would ever guess they were friends. They just didn’t fit each other. Aziraphale dressed like an old man and was sitting with a perfect posture. One could pile up to ten books on his head without letting it fall, given how correct his stance was. Meanwhile, Anthony was taking up most part of the bench to extend his long limbs everywhere.

“I know a place where they have a decent crêpes, if you wanna try it,” said Anthony. It’s good that he has his sunglasses now because he hadn’t taken his eyes off Aziraphale for a while.

“I could never refuse crêpes,” he answered, making the word more “frenchy” than it needed. “Tell me, my dear. How are things for you? How did you find out you were bi?”

Anthony tapped the bench with his bony fingers and looked away for a second. What was he going to answer?

“I don’t know. How do people find out what they like?”

“I mean, you found out while dating Anathema,” Aziraphale explained.

“She’s quite chill about it. Remember the birthday party I said I was going? Yeah, well… Some weird things happened there.”

Aziraphale licked the ice cream that was starting to melt to his hand. The action caught Anthony by surprise and he had quite a fight with his internal voices for being so stupid.

“Weird how?” Aziraphale asked.

“Okay, well… Fred is quite…” he sighed. He didn’t want to introduce Fred like that. But then again, this is just Anthony being stupid. “Fred is quite hot. Anathema thinks he’s hot too. So she suggested it and we both kissed him.”

Aziraphale’s face was a mix of shock and entertainment. 

“So you’re not the jealous type,” concluded Aziraphale.

_ Well, I was avoiding to call Fred ‘hot’ because I was jealous of how you might picture him in your head so I suppose… _

_ ShUT IT. _

“I guess no,” Anthony answered. 

He was going to ask about the things Aziraphale said he was doing in his letters, but his stomach clenched and the subject passed by his head and went away. He wasn’t prepared to hear it. Not now, in public, where his reaction would have to be perfectly faked.

“And did you like it? Kissing him?”

“Hm, it was nice, yes.”

_ I should ask him if he’s kissed someone. _

_ I definitely shouldn’t. _

_ He’d say if he had. _

_ Or maybe not. _

_ He’s super scared of his mother, he probably didn’t kiss anyone because he’s too afraid she’d find out. _

_ Or maybe he kissed someone or wants to kiss someone and that someone is not me and I’m definitely not prepared to hear that so shut THE FUCK UP. _

“Oh my,” said the familiar voice just behind him, making all the voices in his head yell at the same time, “what a coincidence finding you here!”

_ Fuck. _

“Fred!” Anthony answered. The rest of his Popsicle rolled to the ground. He stood up quickly to greet him. His voice failed, he cleared his throat, and carried on. “Angel, this is Fred, the friend I told you about. Fred, this is Aziraphale… the friend I also told you about.”

Aziraphale stood up, very polite.

“What a pleasure to meet you! Anthony said you were too busy to meet me, so I guess I was very lucky!”

“I guess,” Fred agreed, “I always come to the Berkeley square when I’m _ reaaaally _busy with my 17 year old important stuff.”

Anthony stepped on his toe.

“Seems like you’re surrounded by good looking people, Crowley. I should stick around more. We never know how lucky I can get. We’re all very lucky here, aren’t we?”

_ You won’t be lucky when I murder you. _

Aziraphale didn’t understand immediately. He just seemed lost. Anthony, however, was losing control of his entire body.

“Can we not? Like, do the… Fred stuff,” he said, turning towards him, with a grip on his leather jacket that showed how serious he was.

“What Fred stuff?”

“Exactly what you’re doing. Stop it.”

Fred frowned and shrugged.

“It was a huge pleasure to meet you, Angel. I hope we can hang out sometimes. Did Crowley show you Queen? Because it’s my job to show the word of…”

“Our lord and savior Freddie Mercury, yes, thank you. We were already going home. Shame. Let’s see if we can go somewhere next time Aziraphale comes.”

Anthony quickly started walking, expecting Aziraphale to follow, which he eventually did, after properly and politely saying goodbye to Fred, who stayed exactly where he was.

“I was wrong, I think,” said Aziraphale, giggling and struggling more than ever to keep up with Anthony’s pace.

Anthony’s phone vibrated in his back pocket. He took it and mindlessly opened the SMS message that had arrived.

“You actually are jealous. But not of Anathema,” Aziraphale continued. “You’re jealous of Fred, aren’t you?”

In the phone, he read:

_ So, my boy. When are we going to admit you’re in love with that friend of yours? [11:24 am] _

_ Because you’re super in love with him. [11:24am] _

_ Does Anathema know? [11:25am] _

Anthony did the best thing he could do at the moment: he ran into incoming traffic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, sounds like a reasonable thing to do


	10. The lady in the shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have another canon character making an appearance and oh boy there's some sadness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's about time to say HEY GUYS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR SUPPORT. I love writing this fic and I'm happy you're embracing this AU <3

Honestly, running into incoming traffic wasn’t really the best thing Anthony could do at the moment. The best thing he could do was, probably, answer both Fred and Aziraphale and carry on with his life.

However, the chaos in his head left little space for reasoning. They were all shouting at the same time. At least, it seemed like they agreed on that one decision.

_ RUN YOU FOOL _

If you’re running into incoming traffic, you don’t need to answer your best friend who thinks you’re in love with the friend who found out you’re in love with your best friend.

Too confusing to think about. The red car that hit him - very gently, if you consider how rudely a car can hit a person - solved everything.

Except that Anthony didn’t know what happened or when it happened. He just ran. And he knew that, at some point, a car hit him and he fell on the pavement.

Aziraphale appeared seconds later, followed by the driver.

“Oh dear Lord, are you alright? Anthony, dear, talk to me. Where does it hurt?” he gasped, eyes wide open, panicking and uncertain about what to do next.

People started gathering around him, trying to see what had happened. Some other driver behind the red car forgot his hand on the honk, going insane about the delay in the traffic.

“I’m alright, it’s okay,” said Anthony, resting his hand on the pavement to get up, “nothing hurts,” he assured, and heard the driver breathe in relief.

“We need to take you to the hospital,” Aziraphale claimed, moving to hold his arm and help him up.

“What the fuck were you doing, kid? Are you insane?” said the driver, as he also helped him stand up.

Anthony felt his right ankle sting when he rest a minimum weight on it. It almost made him cry out, but he repressed his own protest. Quietly, he tried again, and his ankle hurt even more. But it didn’t seem to be broken, so nothing to worry about at the moment.

“Maybe,” he answered the driver, though it was more like a thought he said out loud.

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” the driver asked.

“Of course he needs to go to the hospital!” Aziraphale said, sounding offended. “You hit him with your car, you  _ must _ take him to the hospital!”

“I don’t need the hospital,” Anthony assured, pretending like his ankle wasn’t aching like hell.

“Look, kids, I’m late. Alright? He seems fine. Look at the mess we’re causing,” the driver said, pausing to let the honking and the insults help his argument. “I was barely at 15mph. This is London. He says he’s fine.”

Aziraphale wasn’t convinced. If anything, the boy looked like an adult standing up and facing the other man to protect Anthony. His face had nothing of the usual innocence and playfulness. He was serious, angry, and he wouldn’t let this down.

The man probably noticed it, because Aziraphale didn’t have to say anything else to make him lower his shoulders and understand how irresponsible he was being. He rushed to his car to find a pen and a small ripped paper and wrote down his name, phone number and even his license plate.

“If anything happens, you can find me. You know, if he needs medication or anything like that.”

Aziraphale took the paper still staring at the man with anger, but this time he accepted the offer. The driver - looking incredibly guilty now - returned to his vehicle and drove off after Aziraphale helped Anthony get to the sidewalk.

_ What on hell was that look on Aziraphale’s face?  _ Anthony thought.

_ I’m not sure but I’m scared and aroused. _

“Are you really alright? We need to take you to the doctor, Anthony.” Aziraphale insisted, with his softness returning almost instantly.

It did wonders to make Anthony’s belly fill with butterflies.

“I think I’ve got a sprained ankle, that’s all,” he answered.

They entered the first shop at reach. It was a book shop. A very decadent one, in fact. There was only one couch, because all the others had piles of old books that were supposed to be placed in the shelves but never were. Someone gave up halfway through. The dust was everywhere. But they only needed a place for Anthony to sit and see how his ankle looked.

And it looked bad.

Not  _ that _ bad. Not  _ let’s call the dude and rush to the hospital _ bad. More like  _ oh shit, you really need a bag of ice on that _ bad.

It was already swollen, and he could bet that it would get purplish (and then all sorts of colours) within the next few days. And it would hurt all the way through.

“If you go to the hospital, they’ll get it immobilized,” said Aziraphale.

“If I go to the hospital, we lose time together. My parents will argue with me, they’ll take me to the doctor, we’ll spend hours waiting for a nurse to immobilize my ankle and then by the time we get home, it’s already night and we lost the entire day,” Anthony babbled.

Of course Aziraphale was putting his wellness ahead of the time they should spend together. Still, Anthony looked away when he noticed the softness in his friend’s eyes grow with the realization that he didn’t want to go to the hospital because they’d spend less time together.

“Well, but we need to do something, you can’t put weight on that,” argued Aziraphale.

An old lady appeared from behind a tall pile of books, probably surprised that someone was in the bookshop. She had orange dyed hair, red lipstick and a lot of makeup, including some long false eyelashes. Behind all that, she looked like a nice grandmother. Maybe an exotic one.

“That looks bad, my boy,” said the old lady, leaning on a table to watch them. “Are you going to the hospital?”

“If I can convince him,” Aziraphale answered. “Sorry we entered your book shop, he needed to sit down. He was hit by a car.”

“Oh my, then you’re lucky that all you got was a sprained ankle, aren’t you?” she said, walking closer to look at his injury. “And don’t worry, it’s not like I would mind some life in this old dusty place.”

“I’m okay, I don’t need the hospital, we don’t have time for that. It’s not that bad,” Anthony claimed.

Aziraphale frowned and poked the swollen ankle with the tip of his finger, making Anthony whine.

“Not that bad, you say?” Aziraphale said, in his ‘told you so’ voice.

“Maybe you don’t need the hospital, but you definitely need some ice,” said the lady. “I’ll get you a bag, you sit and wait a few minutes, and then I’ll see if I can find my husband’s cane. Just so you don’t rest weight on this leg,” she suggested.

“Won’t your husband miss the cane?” asked Anthony.

“I don’t think so, my dear. He’s been dead for 5 years now,” she answered, really sounding uncertain about the man not missing the cane.

She was already walking away to another room behind the counter when Aziraphale called her.

“Excuse me, madame. What is your name?”

“I’m Madame Tracy. I would make a full propaganda of my services, but you are probably too young to hear. Stay there, I’ll be back in a second.”

Aziraphale didn’t understand that. Anthony did. He smirked a bit.

“See? No need to go to the hospital,” said Anthony.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and his attention was distracted to all the books around him. He walked between shelves and piles, looking at the title of them all. They were released years ago, but were still packed in plastic. It’s been a while since no one buys anything here. Madame Tracy was keeping up with her business but not relying on the book shop. He wasn’t sure of why she’d keep it open, then.

“Look at this, it’s a first edition of Allan Poe,” said Aziraphale, taking a book from the bottom of a pile that was shoved on a shelf. “This is worth a lot more than 5 quid. Not that I particularly enjoy Edgar Allan Poe, but still,” he said, giving Anthony the book.

“Why are you giving me this?” he asked.

“I’m gonna buy it, obviously.”

“You said you don’t like Allan Poe.”

“I also said this is worth a lot more than 5 quid and it’s a first edition, for God’s sake. You can’t just leave that for the moths, can you?”

“I absolutely can,” said Anthony, putting the book on the closest desk without standing up.

Aziraphale ignored him and continued to look for more rare books. In the three minutes that Madame Trace took to return, he had separated another six ones, babbling about how lucky he was to find them and how it was such a pity that they were all dusty and so badly taken care of. Anthony just hummed and rolled his eyes, but secretly, his heart was yelling how cute he was with his passion for books.

“Here, put the bag on your ankle, dear,” said the lady, giving Anthony a plastic bag filled with ice cubes. On her other hand she had a cane decorated with a snake wrapped around it.

Anthony looked at the decoration, twitching his lip. If anyone sees him walking with that, he’ll never see the end of the teasing.

“Madame Tracy, I found a few books I’m interested in, I would like to purchase them,” said Aziraphale, excited.

She looked at him, confused. Surely it was the first time in a while that someone said they wanted to buy something from that shop.

“Oh, you can just take those. I don’t think the cash register is working anymore,” she replied.

“No, of course not. I’ve calculated the total sum. It’s 32 quid,” he answered, fetching his wallet in his pocket and taking the exact amount of money to give her. “I thought the bookshop was open. I mean, not very frequented, but open. It isn’t?”

“It is,” she replied, tossing her scarf over her shoulder, “but just because I can’t bring myself to close it. Oh, Geralt, your old man. Won’t let me close his precious book shop. Keeps complaining that I don’t take care of it.”

Anthony squinted, looking at Aziraphale, who looked back at him with the same look in his eyes.

“I imagine Geralt is your deceased husband,” said Aziraphale.

“Yes, yes. Oh, should’ve said. I’m a medium,” she told them, pointing at a small poster on a wall, barely holding itself where it was, showing her ‘medium working hours’. “Geralt speaks to me. Says I can’t close the shop. It was his, truly. He loved this place.”

“So your husband still talks to you,” said Anthony, slowly.

“Yes, he does.”

“And you work as a…”

“Medium, yes.”

“No, the… other job.”

Madame Tracy’s face lit up and she giggled.

“You picked up on that! I knew you were the perv one. Oh, he doesn’t mind.”

“Did I lose something?” asked Aziraphale, confused.

“Yes, you lost your sense of fashion, but we all know that,” said Anthony, jokingly.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“Geralt and me were a bit like you two, you know? He was this innocent man. He looked so lost sometimes with things I used to say. But he was gentle as a man can be. I was a hurricane, he was a soft breeze. And he never tried to slow me down,” she told them, her smile and eyes shining bright with all the dust surrounding her. “You two will be very happy together if I can take me and Geralt as example.”

The two took a few minutes to understand, and then they both gasped and turned red.

“That’s not…”

“We’re not…”

“You really understood it wrong…”

“We’re friends…”

“Not a couple…”

“Definitely not a couple…”

“What, me and Angel?”

“Calling me angel doesn’t help your case,” Aziraphale pointed out.

Madame Tracy just continued to smile.

“I know. I’m just saying. Who knows.” She winked at them and stood up, giggling as they blushed even more. “Stay as much as you need, my dear. And take the cane. I hope you feel better soon and please, come visit whenever you want. There are plenty of old books you might be interested in.”

“I’ll definitely pay you a visit when I return to London, Madame Tracy. And thank you very much for helping us out.”

“No problem, my dear. Now if you excuse me, I have a client that should arrive in 30 minutes. Make yourselves at home.”

She left the front of the bookshop, leaving them alone. Aziraphale turned to Anthony, sighing.

“How does it feel?”

“It’s better, I guess. The problem is the cane. Why did it have to be a snake?”

“I think it suits you,” Aziraphale pointed out.

Anthony’s heart ached. Like a sting directly to his chest. Why was Aziraphale mocking him, of all people?

“Seriously, Angel?” he said, annoyed, hurt.

“What?” he asked, confused. “What did I say? I think it suits you.”

Anthony frowned and stood up, taking the cane.

“It’s not like people haven’t used that to mock me my whole life,” he complained, walking out of the bookshop, angrily.

Aziraphale rushed to follow him, worried about his friend’s tone.

“But I’m not mocking you. I didn’t mean to mock you or make you feel bad,” said Aziraphale.

“Maybe not. But that’s worse, isn’t it?” he limped, not looking at his friend. “You’re just pointing out what is obvious.”

“That you have eyes that look like snake eyes?”

“And the thin body, the long limbs, everything. I look weird. I’ve always did. Puberty did nothing to fix it. In fact, it made it worse.”

He wasn’t seeing how Aziraphale frowned in pure confusion.

“I’m sorry, Anthony. I’ve always thought this was… something cool. I love your eyes. I think people like it too.”

“Oh, come on.”

“I do,” he insisted. They were already crossing the street, going back to the subway station where they came from. “Your eyes look cool. People just point out things that make you different from them to use it to hurt you. It doesn’t mean they are bad things. It’s… like a weapon. Like Michael. She’s got a boy’s name. People make fun of her. It doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. It’s what they can use against her. People call me a fag. But being gay isn’t bad. It’s just what makes me different from them, so that’s what they can use. You have beautiful yellow eyes. They don’t have it. So they use that against you. If you start being proud of it, they’ll no longer see that as your weakness. So… the cane is a way to be proud of it.”

Anthony was glad that he was wearing the sunglasses, because his eyes were reddish and wet by the time they went down the stairs of the subway. He had spent too many years hating his eyes and his body to flip that key in his brain and start liking them, but Aziraphale was right. Probably. Hopefully.

They went back to Anthony’s home, where the boy had to tell his mother that he fell on the street (erasing the part where he got hit by a car for running into incoming traffic for no reason) and hurt his ankle, but a nice lady from a book shop helped and things were alright. She prepared another bag of ice for him and Aziraphale helped him up the stairs.

Anthony used the time while his friend was at the bathroom to take his phone and finally answer Fred.

_ Shut up. [1:14pm] _

_ It’s none of your business [1:14pm] _

He put his phone down, but the reply came when Aziraphale returned from the bathroom. So Anthony just unlocked the screen to read, without meaning to reply.

_ Easy, boy. You can talk to me if you want. I know you can’t talk about this with Anathema or Aziraphale. And you probably wanna talk. I’m just saying.. I can hear you.[1:16pm] _

He didn’t answer. After all, he wasn’t sure if he could truly trust Fred or if he really needed to talk about this. Not once he had admitted out loud that he loves Aziraphale. And, he knew, things would be a hell lot more difficult once he externalizes those words and someone becomes aware of them.

So he spent the rest of the day with Aziraphale, playing video games and just chatting like they always do. Anthony didn’t bring up any of the touchy subjects that were hovering over them at the moment. The reason why Aziraphale was here in the first place hadn’t been discussed yet, and it seemed like the boy was very aware that they had to talk about it at some point, and was waiting for the best moment, so Anthony waited for him to decide when the moment was right. And surely, the topic of what Aziraphale was doing that he couldn’t tell him through letters was bothering Anthony only. Maybe it hadn’t crossed Aziraphale’s mind to talk about it. Maybe it was some minor issue. But to Anthony it felt like a nail piercing his head when he had to pretend that nothing was wrong.

When the night came, Anthony was surprised by his friend crawling up his bed to help him better accommodate himself without hurting his injured ankle. When he was resting his back against some pillows, Aziraphale stayed there, cuddling him, making his heart threaten to explode or melt. But this is what they always do, right? Nothing changed, except for Anthony’s love for his best friend. It had grown exponentially since last summer, it seems.

“You didn’t answer, by the way. If you’re jealous of Fred,” said Aziraphale.

Calmer now, Anthony had had time to think of a good answer. So there was no need to jump off the window.

“I’m not,” he answered. “Fred is just annoying when it comes to pretty people. But he’s not exactly a nice guy. I was just worried, that’s all.”

“Worried?”

“He can seem like the best guy in the world. He can sing, he can dance, he wears a skirt better than most people. But he can break people’s heart. I didn’t want you falling for his tricks.”

Aziraphale looked at him, surprised and a bit unsure of what to think of this protection.

“You think I would fall in love with a guy I just met?”

Anthony didn’t like where this was heading. Sure he thought the whole day about asking Aziraphale of whether he had kissed someone or not, but now that the topic was getting closer from that kind of conversation, the cold shiver in his stomach was quickly translated as  _ YOU’RE NOT READY FOR THIS. _

“I don’t know and it’s not important. Sorry about how I behaved. I kinda panicked.”

“Oh, I know,” he said, “but I know you don’t always think before doing things. Like running into incoming traffic.”

“And being hit by a car,” Anthony agreed, giggling. “Oh, that guy was so scared of you.”

“He was very rude! How dare he try not to help after he hit you with his car!”

“I’m not defending him or anything, but I suppose I hit his car with my body.”

Aziraphale laughed and rolled his eyes, then went quiet. He looked down at his own fingers, fidgeting a bit. Anthony noticed the change.

“Are you okay?”

Aziraphale took a deep breath, preparing himself.

“The problem is my mother,” Aziraphale confessed, pressing both hands against each other, rubbing his fingers, his feet also unquiet and legs tightly pressed.

“Your mother?” Anthony questioned, confused.

“She doesn’t understand,” the blue eyed boy explained.

Anthony noticed that he had lowered his head and tensed his shoulders, so that meant he was about to cry.

“She doesn’t understand that my father didn’t change,” he continued, his voice trembling, “and that he’s still the same man she knows.”

Here comes the touchy subject. Right before bed so no one is gonna come in and interfere. And he was cuddling against Anthony for support and human warmth. Sounds like the right moment.

“Why would she think he changed? Is he behaving differently?”

“Yes, he is,” Aziraphale answered, “but that’s what we do when we’re sick. You don’t ask people for help when you’re healthy, but if you break a leg, you’ll become dependent on others. It doesn’t mean you’re a different person who’s suddenly not independent anymore. It means you need help now. But she thinks he’s a different person now. And he isn’t. He’s a great man, like he’s always been.”

Anthony nodded and pulled him even closer when the boy closed his eyes and his first tear rolled. Aziraphale rested his head on his shoulder, taking short breaths as he allowed himself to cry.

“It’s difficult for your mother to see, Angel. Because he’s always…”

“He’s always drunk. He drinks and he drinks and he’s always this annoying bastard who breaks cups and plates and sleeps all day and…” he paused, trying to find more examples, “vomits on the carpet and can’t help her with anything. Yes. I know. It’s difficult for her. But he’s sick. This is not him. He’s sick. He needs help. He’s not this bastard, he’s a great man, but he’s addicted to alcohol, and now he needs us more than ever. We can’t just… throw him away and pretend the problem is dealt with. It’s not. I’m scared, Anthony.”

Anthony couldn’t say he understood what Aziraphale said. Because that’s just not how he learned to see these things. If you’re an alcoholic, it’s because you’re irresponsible. It’s because you’re, somehow, in some way, a bad person. But Aziraphale was right. No one is born an alcoholic, and Mr. Eaven had been a great man before this happened. The addiction didn’t change who he is. If it was a shock for Anthony to try and see things this way, he could only imagine how impossible it would be for Mrs. Eaven to listen to her younger son about it. She was a woman from the church. If anything, demons could be making her husband become this irresponsible and despicable man. In any case, he wasn’t a good man anymore. Not a man from the church, not a good father, a good husband. And the only thing she’d see as an alternative was divorce.

But once the divorce is done, what is Mr. Eaven going to do?

“He began drinking when his company closed,” Aziraphale explained, “and he had no job, no nothing. My mum gave him the money to start over. He makes good money, but mum is the one who keeps the house going. She likes to tell him that she’ll be fine if he drinks to death.”

Anthony shivered. What a terrible thing to say.

“So she’s really not helping, she’s making it worse,” Anthony concluded.

“She doesn’t think she needs to help. She doesn’t even think that anyone makes it any worse. I think my father feels so alone. But when he’s drunk, we can’t approach him. He keeps a distance, he pushes us away. And I’m scared, so scared, Anthony, because he has a gun.”

Anthony’s eyes widened. Suddenly, his concern took an entirely different perspective.

“You think he might be a risk for someone?” he asked.

“To himself only,” Aziraphale cried, hiding his eyes on Anthony’s chest, his tears being wiped on his black pyjama t-shirt.

“You think he would…”

“Mother always says she doesn’t need him. That we’d be fine without him. That he’s a burden and nothing else. I barely see him sober anymore. A month ago he went out and disappeared. The police called saying he was in jail for disturbing people on the street. He was drunk and trying to be hit by cars in a highway, Anthony. He was trying to be killed.”

Anthony’s heart ached. Maybe that’s why Aziraphale turned into someone else entirely when he was hit. He got scared because of a previous incident with his father.

“Because if you kill yourself…”

“See? He’s still the same man. He believes in God, he still has faith, he wants to help, and he thinks he’ll be helping if he dies…” he clenched his fists on Anthony’s shirt and could barely speak by now. “He knows he goes to hell if he kills himself. But I don’t know for how long he’ll care about eternal damnation.”

Anthony embraced Aziraphale with his entire body. Somehow, it was like his soul was also embracing his friend. He became tiny within Anthony’s long arms.

“Do you want me to ask my mother to talk to yours? She won’t listen to us, but she’ll listen to another adult,” Anthony suggested.

Aziraphale didn’t answer immediately. He couldn’t breathe properly and the only thing he did was cry for a while.

“I want my father to go to a clinic,” he answered, “where he can be treated. I want him to be cured.”

“But how can we do that? How can we hospitalize him? Your mother needs to agree on this. He needs to agree on this.”

“I know,” Aziraphale answered, with his eyes shut. “There’s no answer right now.”

Anthony’s eyes were also leaking tears. He hadn’t realized until he blinked and a river poured down his cheeks. Aziraphale’s cry was like knives on his chest.

“Hey, Angel,” Anthony whispered, caressing his head,” I’m here with you. You’re not alone, okay? I cannot solve your problem, but I can be here.”

Aziraphale nodded, unable to voice his gratitude. He stayed there, hiding his face on his chest, crying and quiet. Slowly, they both became sleepy.

Anthony only realized they had shared a bed again when he woke up in the morning. But this time, boosted by how much his feelings had grown, the fact that Aziraphale was lying with him so closely, made Anthony want to cry. Not from sadness - although the feeling wasn’t that different from sadness. He wouldn’t know how to call that sensation. Perhaps it was a craving. A yell from the depths of his soul. So maybe there was no name

_ This is what I want for the rest of my life. Helping you, being your support, trusting you, and waking up with you. And I may never have it. _

There was an expression in french for that feeling. They called it  _ la douleur exquise. _

After Aziraphale left that day, Anthony knew he couldn’t keep sweeping that under the rug. He needed help. He needed someone.

So he decided to open up to Fred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or, as I would call it, Crowley decided to start getting his shit together


	11. Courage pill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That took way too long to post. Sorry about that. I was on a business trip in Bolivia (??? I mean yeah) and I couldn't even think of writing. I was too tired. But I'm back now and perhaps some of you will change your opinion on Fred??

Fred’s house was a lot different from the day of the party. To begin with, it was neatly clean. Anthony had met his parents and was delighted to know that they were very gentle and kind. They had a hippie vibe around them. His mother was an artist and his father was a teacher in social sciences in the UCL. That would explain why Fred had the freedom he had to do anything. His parents had always given him privacy and space, knowing that trying to control him was useless.

His room, however, looked exactly like it did the day of the party. He was alone with him now, though. And his heart was beating much faster than when he was about to have some “threesome make out” for the first time in his life. Because nothing matters more than Aziraphale at the moment.

Fred was aware of this by now. Even if Anthony had chosen not to talk about it, he’d know. It was not something he could hide anymore, so he might as well be open and stop procrastinating the difficult talks he needs to have. Fred was the first one, but Anathema would come right after, surely.

“So when did you fall for the boy?” Fred asked, starting their conversation. He was leaning on a wall that was covered by posters of bands.

Anthony swallowed. He was going to say it out loud now. It would be real. This is the point of no return.

“I remember realizing I loved him, but we’ve been friends since forever. I’m not sure of when I fell for him or if I ever  _ not loved _ him.”

“Wow, that’s deep. How romantic,” said Fred, but quickly continued, before Anthony could complaining of being mocked. “I’m proud of you for opening up about this. You look like you’re struggling to talk.”

“The thing is, we’ve always been really good friends. Not friends like me and Anathema or me and you. It’s another level. He thinks for me when I can’t understand my own head. He makes things make sense. It’s like he’s an additional part of me. When he’s sad, I feel destroyed. When he’s happy, my world is perfect.”

“So why don’t you tell him that?”

Anthony’s chest sunk into a hole with that question. A vacuum of fear. Lately he had been experiencing this very often when thinking of the possibility that he may never have Aziraphale’s love to himself. The fear was overwhelming. Sometimes, that hole felt like it was being fed on his fear of rejection, and it would grow to become a black hole and swallow him entirely, with nothing left behind. Everything about Anthony Crowley would disappear if Aziraphale rejects him.

“It started very normal. When I realized I loved him, I was scared of losing his friendship if he knew. Like people always do.”

“It’s reasonable.”

“But honestly, everything grew out of proportions. I didn’t notice any of this happening. Somehow, everything I do when he’s not with me makes me even more aware of how much I love him and how much I’d lose if he doesn’t return my feelings. And so I’m scared to death of his rejection. I feel like if he tells me that he loves someone else, I’ll cease existing.”

Fred’s eyebrows were lift up as he listened. At some point, he turned away, still listening, and moved to his CD player. He went through a few albuns and finally selected one.

“At this point I fear losing him,” Anthony continued, “but I also fear that our friendship will be affected by how much I love him. You know? Like… somehow I change because of what he makes me feel. And there’s also Anathema. What if I break her heart? It’s obvious that I need to break up with her, but she didn’t do anything wrong.”

Fred pressed play and a Queen song started. Anthony didn’t know why he did that at first, but when the lyrics came up, it was clear.

_ I'm just the pieces of the man I used to be _

_ Too many bitter tears are raining down on me _

_ I'm far away from home _

_ And I've been facing this alone _

_ For much too long _

_ Oh, I feel like no-one ever told the truth to me _

_ About growing up and what a struggle it would be _

_ In my tangled state of mind _

_ I've been looking back to find _

_ Where I went wrong _

_ Too much love will kill you _

_ If you can't make up your mind _

_ Torn between the lover _

_ And the love you leave behind _

_ You're headed for disaster _

_ 'Cause you never read the signs _

_ Too much love will kill you - every time _

Anthony sighed. It was somehow relieving to hear that song, because it meant that his feelings weren’t out of this planet. He wasn’t alone with them. And surely Fred understood what he was saying, because the song was a perfect representation of his suffering.

“First of all, Anathema surely knows,” said Fred. “And perhaps she’s going through some dilemma to decide whether to wait for you to tell her or bringing it up herself. In my opinion, you should do it first.”

Anthony didn’t doubt it. He knew it was true, every line of it.

“Secondly, yes, you need to break up with her. Yes, this will hurt you both. But here’s the thing: life is like that, boy. People break up and they suffer but in the end it’s better for both. Now, regarding your friend, you need to tell him too.”

Anthony shivered and looked away. The hole in his chest was there again.

“If he’s so close to you the way you says he is, then he also misses you, he also needs you, and he’ll still be there regardless of anything. If he doesn’t love you romantically, he loves you as his best friend, and if he was the kind of arse who pushes people away like that, you wouldn’t love him the way you do. So give your friend some trust and open yourself with him.”

“It’s not that easy,” Anthony said.

“It is. It doesn’t  _ feel _ easy, but it’s easy as anything. What are you afraid of? Losing his friendship or not being loved back?”

Anthony hadn’t thought about this. He had put all those feelings in a bag. A closed bag that was thrown in the depths of his heart and was now open and exposed.

“If I’m not loved back but our friendship remains the same, I would suffer only when he falls for someone else,” he told him, clenching his fists with the pain that came with the that idea.

“Why? Why not being loved back hurts less if he’s alone?”

“Because I know it will never happen then,” Anthony answered.

“So before he falls for someone else, you still think it might happen?” Fred questioned.

“Well, in theory…”

“You think it  _ might _ happen. You fear him loving someone else because deep inside you really think he might love you back. Your fear of rejection is so strong that it’s blinding you to reality. And reality is that your head knows you have a chance. Even if he says “no”, even if he says he doesn’t feel the same, even upon such scenario, your head, considering your relationship and how he treats you, still thinks he might love you. You’re just blinded by fear.”

“Just because my head thinks I have a chance, doesn’t mean I actually have,” said Anthony, holding back nervous tears.

“Okay, let’s do it differently. Why don’t you try to make him fall for you?” asked Fred.

“If I could make Angel fall for me, you think I would be suffering for this?”

“What have you done to make him fall for you?”

Anthony went quiet. He shrugged and waved his hands randomly.

“Nothing,” Fred concluded. “How about inviting him for dinner? Or cinema. Or getting him a surprise gift.”

This time Anthony was excited to answer.

“We’ve done all that!” he replied. “Every single thing. We sleep together. We’ve taken baths together. We’ve watched horror movies holding each other.”

Fred pursed his lips, thinking.

“Seems like you’re dating him but you’ve both forgot to kiss each other.”

Anthony sighed, lowering his shoulders again.

“Try some flirting. Some double meaning joke. I call it ‘I’m joking but if you’re interested, I’m serious’ flirting. You know? See how he responds. Test the waters with humor.”

Anthony let his body fall on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. In the meanwhile, Fred had walked to a drawer to grab a bottle of meds. He took five pills from it and swallowed them all with a glass of water that seemed to be there waiting for him to do exactly that.

“Is this how you do your thing? How you flirt with people?” Anthony asked.

“Mostly,” he answered, folding his arms in front of his chest. “I count with a nice face and some abs to help.”

Anthony closed his eyes but laughed quietly at his answer.

“You’re gonna sleep with Anathema after I break up with her?”

“Not likely. I don’t like being the first of people I’m not really in love with. And she’s gonna lose interest in me once she’s single. She’s a romantic girl, deep down. It’s clear that she believes in soul mates and that whole ‘fate’ thing. So I’m an adventure. And she only wants adventure if she can have love at the same time.”

Anthony nodded, agreeing. His head was distant, however. Where was he going to find courage to break up with Anathema, who was this incredible girl? Hopefully they could still be friends. She was smart enough to overcome the initial anger that might arise.

After a while, with Queen playing in the background, Anthony finally got up, ready to leave. But he stopped in front of Fred, deciding to get some answers.

“How did you find out? I mean, you saw us together just once. Did I show too much?”

“That day in the greenhouse when you came in your pants? I knew there was a guy. Then you spoke about this incredible friend of yours. When he came to visit, you didn’t want me to see him. And I was very surprised. That boy is not what I expected him to be. He’s  _ nothing _ like you. Nothing about him seems to be things that you’re interested in. Still, when I approached, suddenly you froze. If there wasn’t a huge feeling towards Aziraphale, the shared interests you have with him aren’t enough to keep you two this close and you wouldn’t be so worried about my presence. Combine that with your orgasm from just imagining  _ some guy _ fucking you and there’s no other possible conclusion.”

Anthony nodded, understanding. It was pretty obvious, really. He didn’t say anything before turning to leave.

“Hm, hey,” Fred stopped him, opening his bottle of meds again. He took two pills and handed it to Anthony. “This might help you. Take one and see how you feel. Don’t take it at night or you won’t sleep. Depending on how it affects you, you can take it before talking to Anathema.”

“What the fuck is this?”

“Courage, believe me. You’ll be fine.”

“I’m not taking pills without knowing what they are,” Anthony argued.

“If you know what they are, you’ll have to lie if they find it.”

Anthony frowned and put the pills on the desk.

“So it’s illegal.”

“Only if your doctor didn’t give it to you,” Fred answered. “It’s not gonna do you any harm. But it’s up to you, really. It’s just a dose of self confidence and courage.”

Fred walked away to sit on his bed.

Anthony stared at the pills for a few seconds.

_ This is wrong as fuck. _

_ But I could use some courage. _

Hesitating, he picked them up and put them in his pocket. Then left the room.

  
  


* * *

Anthony tried the pill at home, as instructed. He chose a time of the day when his parents weren’t home. And he felt stupid before, during and after swallowing it. In fact, he had never felt so stupid and irresponsible in his entire life, not even when he ran away from home or when he ran into incoming traffic. After it was done, guilty consumed him, and he thought of calling Fred, scared, but didn’t do it.

For twenty minutes, he felt nothing different. Perhaps this was just placebo. Maybe Fred wanted him to feel brave by convincing him that the pill would do that.

But then it started.

First, his heart sped up. Not uncomfortably, but like when you’re excited to do something. And he wanted to do something. Anything.

He paced around his room for a while. When he passed by his window, he saw the garden.

And the garden was not being taken care of properly, he thought. He could make it so much more beautiful. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? If he places that plant somewhere else and rearranges the flowers, the garden would look incredible.

So he went downstairs to the backyard, armed with his gardening tools (a Christmas gift) and started working.

It was incredible. He felt incredible. Like he could decorate the most beautiful garden in London. And he’d be glad to show it to people. He really wanted someone to be here to show them what he was doing. Maybe he could call Anathema. Oh, he had to break up with her. Well, he could do that. Why is it that he didn’t want to deal with this before? It wasn’t so hard. It was stupid that he hadn’t done it yet. She’s suffer less and he’d be free of that consuming guilty.

He’d have called her and done it if he wasn’t too focused on his plants at the moment. He had to finish it before anything else.

Fortunately, his parents arrived, because Anthony was struggling with his need to talk to someone about his decoration of the garden. When his mother came to the backyard, he heard her before he could see her.

“Oh my God, Anthony. What did you do?”

“You like it?”

His mother walked around the new garden. Any unwanted weed was gone. The flowers were rearranged to form a path that led to a bench they had. He also put the same colors and species together, making sure they had enough light according to its needs. The earth he removed was sweeped and dead leaves and weed was all in a trash bag. No mess. Just a beautiful garden.

“How many hours did you spend doing this?”

Anthony took his phone for the first time since he started working. It puzzled him for a moment. Maybe the time was wrong?

“Apparently 7 hours.”

“It looks beautiful, my love. Truly. But your ankle...”

He had forgotten his ankle.

“Feels a lot better,” he answered.

She pulled him closer to kiss his forehead.

“You never cease to impress me.”

He had a very much needed shower, then dinner, and went back to his room. Before turning off the lights to go to sleep, he saw the second pill on the table. Talking to Anathema seemed again like a battle, but during the day he remembered not seeing it as a huge problem. The pill had really given him some courage.

What the hell was that?

He still didn’t know, but he knew he’d take that again tomorrow in order to speak to her.

* * *

The first step was to decide a place. It had to allow them both to be alone and cry, if that was the case. If they were to have a heated argument, having people stare would only make things worse. But then again, doing it at home could backfire. Their parents loved their relationship, so the risk of them asking what was happening or simply making it worse was too big. A bathroom would also be important. If they cry, they’d have to wipe their faces before leaving.

Public space, not too many people, quiet, and with a bathroom available.

He thought it would be impossible to decide. But the recent events of his life ended up giving him a solution.

So at the moment he was sitting on a dusty chair with piles of books everywhere. Madame Tracy was preparing them tea, being as sweet as he remembered her. Anathema was slightly confused about the book shop that she could swear was abandoned.

He had taken the pill about 15 minutes later. For now he was scared and fearing not being capable of breaking up. Hopefully, his mentality would change once the pill kicks in.

“How did you find this place?” asked Anathema, looking around the books.

“The day I got hit by the car,” Anthony answered. “We came here so I could sit down and see the damage.”

She nodded, distracted by a book of prophecies.

“I’ve always thought this shop was closed,” she commented, “and I think I still do.”

“She doesn’t sell many books. You’ll find some nice stuff. Angel bought a few books that, according to him, are rare and worth I don’t know how much.”

Anathema kept looking, running her fingers over a few covers, taking them in her hand to read, and eventually picked some tarot, mysticism and divination books.

Madame Tracy came back with their tea and overlooked the ones she had chosen.

“This one is very accurate, my dear. I think you’ll enjoy it. You see, I’m a Medium myself.”

Anathema turned towards her, interested.

“So you can communicate with the other side?” she asked.

“And I can read hands too. Would you like me to try reading your future?”

Anthony wasn’t entirely sure if he believed those things or not. Probably not. But it wasn’t something he had thought too much, and surely wouldn’t argue against it. Anathema always spoke of how things are meant to be and fate is all sort of written, but Anthony never debated on that. Now he was a little bit scared of what Madame Tracy would read on her hand. Would it mean some mystic spoiler?

Anathema put all the books down to show her hand. Madame Tracy looked at her palm closely, humming, following the lines with her finger.

“I can see you’re a very romantic girl. But also very straightforward. You don’t like being stuck in some problem, you always try to find a way out. But deeply, you desire to settle down, though you’re not very patient about it. It’s like you’re running in order to find a spot to rest. So young and so passionate you are, my dear. But perhaps you could slow down a bit.”

Anathema listened everything very attentively. Anthony was pretending to be distracted while drinking tea, but regardless of the hot drink, his stomach felt cold.

Watching those books, he caught himself wondering why he doesn’t read more. And he knew very well why, but at the moment, his lack of attention span didn’t seem to be that much of a problem. That was precisely when he knew that the pill was kicking in. His heartbeat increased and that courage he felt the first time turned on like an engine.

It wasn’t so bad. Anathema is smart and mature.

“Do you have more books about divination?” Anathema asked.

“Probably. I wouldn’t remember. But I do have some personal favorites that I can give you,” the old woman answered, happily. “I’ll go get them. Make yourselves at home.”

She left them and went inside. The silence took over again. Anthony took a deep breath, with his whole body feeling the weight of his next words.

“Anathema, I need to talk to you,” he said, trying his best not to let his voice fail halfway through.

The courage was there, but it wasn’t doing any miracles.

Anathema wasn’t looking at him. She was reading the cover of the books she selected. But the phrase clearly had an impact on her, because she swallowed and put the books down. There wasn’t a ‘sure, what do you wanna talk about?’. Just a shift in her attention and stance.

He had spent the night thinking of excuses and nice reasons that wouldn’t hurt her and make it easier, but in the end, he owed her some truth.

“I think we’re taking each other’s time,” he said. “I don’t think I’m the spot where you’re gonna rest. I can’t be.”

“Because you love Aziraphale,” Anathema concluded.

Anthony’s heart sped up to the point of aching. His vision got blurred. So she knew too. And he came here to be honest, so he couldn’t deny it.

“No,” he replied, “I mean, no, that’s not the reason why I’m not the right person. But at the same time it is. I don’t think I would be the right guy for you even if I didn’t…”

“Loved Aziraphale,” she finished when he stopped.

He stopped and realized he was gritting his teeth. His jaw was going to ache later.

“I do, yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to, I tried to just let it pass. But I’ve never cheated on you. Ever.”

Anathema folded her arms. Her eyes were wet, but she wasn’t crying.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” she said.

“You don’t seem to be.”

“I’ve stopped trying to compete with him. There’s no fair competition.”

Anthony stood up and walked to her. His legs were weak, but doing the job. Surely he wouldn’t be able to run at the moment, which was good, considering what he does when caught in a difficult situation.

“But did you really want to compete?” he asked. “Did you ever see us getting married and being together forever? You and me?”

She didn’t answer immediately. The question seemed to surprise her. When she looked away from his eyes he knew that he was right.

“But I really like you,” Anathema answered, her voice failing.

“And I really like you too,” Anthony replied, filled with a feeling he didn’t know how to name, but perhaps could be described as ‘losing safety and embracing change’. “I’ve always did. I love the time we spend together, I think you’re gorgeous and literally the craziest and smartest girl I know. I wish I was the right guy for you and you were the right girl for me, because I would be the happiest man if that was true.”

Her first tear rolled and she nodded, then smiled a bit over her sad expression. The smile lit hope in Anthony’s heart. Perhaps things would end well.

“And I wish you were wrong,” she answered. “About you not being right for me. But I’ve known for a while.”

“You’re resting in a terrible spot,” said Anthony.

“I guess I’ve got to keep running.”

“Watch the traffic.”

Anathema laughed at the joke and wiped her eyes. Then hugged Anthony very tightly. He hesitated for a moment, but then hugged her back, closing his eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“I don’t even know.”

Done.

Anthony came home that day and told his parents that he was now single, but Anathema was still a very good friend. They were surprised, but didn’t question too much. The first thing he did in his room was write a letter to Aziraphale telling about the break up. Remembering Fred’s advice, he added some flirting to the letter, making an effort so that his handwriting wasn’t shaky while doing so.

_ [...] So that’s it, I guess. I’m single. Open for business. Hit me if you’re interested lol. Kidding. [...] _

He cursed out loud while closing the envelope. One month till summer. Next task: ask Fred for some more of those courage pills and prepare for a messy month in Aziraphale’s home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summer here we come
> 
> Hey, Crowley is based on a demon. He will definitely make some bad decision and pretend not to care. We need to stay true to that, right?
> 
> Oh, that definitely has consequences.  
Also, prepare for Crowley being super flirty.
> 
> Yo adhd people already thought of what he's taking. But let me tell you it's not that obvious.


	12. Thank you for my pornography

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look at me taking too long to post again. But hey, I had to stop myself with this chapter because it would be too long. So I split it in two. You might get angry with where it was split. But the next chapter comes soon, so yay?  
Also: TW for this chapter. Drug use. Yep. Sorry.  
And our boys are 16.  
That means the M rating is about to get real. In this very chapter (and the next ones).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summer comes. Anthony is on his courage pills. Aziraphale is a repressed gay boy who is curious about stuff. Anthony is the one he trusts to show him. So....yeah.

Courage, Anthony found out, is not cheap. Nor it comes without consequences.

But it wasn’t just courage. His grades in school were getting better. He felt motivated, focused and full of energy. This were clearer now. His thoughts were under control, his body wasn’t acting without him noticing. But, as Fred later said, the pills weren’t some magical compound.

It would’ve been easier if he was taking Adderall without knowing. In truth, Fred had been taking Adderall until about three months ago. Then, his dealer changed to something else, which was what he had given Anthony, and kept giving him for a few days. Then, Anthony used his money to pay for some more. By this point he knew he was taking Desoxyn.

He didn’t feel proud of it. Not at all. He felt scared. But Fred had been taking it for a while and he was fine. Also, it was helping his life in a hundred different ways. The first talk with Anathema after breaking up was only not nerve wrecking because of that pill. They managed to maintain a close friendship, like before, because Anthony was very confident every time they talked.

Not to mention his parents. They loved how their son was behaving now. And these illegal drugs usually cause problems of behavior, don’t they? It couldn’t be that bad, then. Med students take it all the time, he found out.

And, hell, those pills could mean that he’d have the courage to confess his feelings to Aziraphale. That was the final weight on that moral decision. He could actually tell him. He just needed that pill.

Fred didn’t keep selling him the drug. He was smarter than risking being caught selling instead of just carrying. So he introduced Anthony to his dealer.

Days before summer, the dealer said he had no desoxyn anymore.

“How can you not have it?”

The dealer was a young man who must’ve been once a healthy one. Now he had some scars on his lips and all over his arms, his skin looked too pale and his eyes couldn’t keep sill. They always met in a rock pub downtown.

“Do you know how hard it is to get desoxyn? No, you don’t, because I always bring them to you,” the man said, pinching one of his scars on his arm.

“Do you have ADD?” asked Fred.

“Not at the moment. I can’t get it next week.”

Anthony cursed under his breath. Next week he’d be in the farm with Aziraphale. And his plans included confessing his feelings. Without that pill, he’d go through another summer without telling him, and then it might be too late.

“What do you have?” asked Anthony. “Similar to that.”

The dealer shrugged.

“You wouldn’t want what I have.”

“Try me.”

The man smiled. His teeth weren’t all rotten, but surely more yellow than the british average.

“There’s the generic desoxyn.”

“Generic?”

“Some dudes produce it. It’s really good. Better than desoxyn.”

Fred pursed his lips and pulled Anthony away to a corner.

“That’s just plain meth, Crowley.”

Anthony frowned. Desoxyn was plain meth. What was the big problem here?

“Great, so that’s what we’ll take.”

“No, you don’t understand. That’s… you know, the bad one. They produce it illegally. And they don’t have control of the dose. It’s gonna be a lot higher than Desoxyn.”

“You used to take five pills at once.”

“Five pills means 25mg. One pill of the  _ generic _ one will be anything between 50 and 150mg.”

“I’ll split it. It’s good because it has to last the whole summer.”

Fred sighed, watching him closely. Like a parent trying to decide whether the teenager should go to a party or not.

“Fine, whatever. Be careful.”

They returned to the dealer, who was passing a bag to the pocket of another client.

“How many do you have and how much you want for them?” asked Anthony.

“This is not mine, be aware. My bros make them. And it’s pretty hard. Some other dude might sell you the the crystal, but not me. The crystal you’ll have to smoke or some shit. It’s bad for you. And your parents can find out. Snorting is also quite perceptible. And then there’s injection. Hard to get needles. You’re a pretty boy, you won’t want any of that. My blokes make the pill. Just like desoxyn. But what can I say? I only sell for them. It’s their thing. You pay me, I pay them. You don’t pay me, they’ll look for you.”

Fred sighed behind Anthony, again unsure if this was remotely safe.

“How much? I need like… 20 hits or so.”

“That will cost you 400 quid. Nice price.”

Anthony swallowed. He didn’t have that money.

“10 hits.”

“Do the math, idiot. 200 quid, obviously.”

Anthony turned o Fred.

“You said each hit is stronger.”

“There’s a limit of times you can split a pill, you know.”

Anthony returned to the dealer.

“I have 50 here with me.”

“That gives you 2 and a half pills,” said the dealer.

“Can I pay you after summer? I’ll give you 50 now and 50 in August.”

The dealer looked up at him with this yellow smile and threw him two little plastic bags with 5 pills each. Anthony caught them midair.

“You won’t pay  _ me _ . You’ll pay my pals. After I give you the stuff, your problem is with them. Got it?”

Anthony’s birthday had already passed, so he couldn’t ask his parents for that money as a birthday gift. But he could maybe work during summer? And perhaps sell his phone? He could get that money. Sure he could.

“August. I won’t be here in July,” Anthony warned, passing him the 50 quid.

“Not my problem,” said the dealer, taking the money. “Now off you go.”

Back home he started packing his bags for summer. Then, with his door locked, he split each pill in as many pieces as he could. The five pills became 20. He’d have tried one, but it was past 6pm, and it wouldn’t let him sleep.

He should be more worried than he was. But currently, all his mind could think of was how he’d confess his feelings for Aziraphale.

He had it planned. He’d write a letter. But a letter that he’d deliver in his hands and watch him read it. Because letters were  _ their _ way of communicating. So many things had been told in letters. Receiving one from Aziraphale always brightens his day. It seems like a good way to do it. But he still had to write it.

And as he took the pen, he felt as if that very letter was the most important thing he had ever written. And that was, considering everything he had done and what he’d do in the future. Because his feelings for Aziraphale would impact the rest of his life somehow. If they were returned, he’d never let go of him. Ever. He’d face his mother and the entire church if needed, and then he’d marry him. If he wasn’t returned - and that thought made his stomach ache - he’d take years to recover from this, surely. In a way or another, this was very important for him as a 16 year old and as a future adult.

Of course that the words in this letter weren’t important as the letter itself. If Aziraphale didn’t love him back yet, the letter wasn’t going to make him love him. But maybe it would give him a chance to, as Fred said, seduce him. And if Aziraphale already loves him, then the letter was just a small step to their happiness.

But it was important anyway, because it was his confession.

He swallowed and took a deep breath. The words were in his mind. He just needed courage and inspiration. So he put  _ You’re my best friend _ to play and started writing.

_ Dear Aziraphale, _

_ I know this letter seems silly, because I’m here with you as you read. But I felt like a letter was the best way to do this. _

_ Through the years we’ve shared everything. I trust you more than I trust myself, and that’s not even just words. I truly believe that you can think for me when I’m too impulsive. I trust you to understand my feelings. You became part of who I am, and I cannot imagine myself without you. By now you’ve been with me for 11 years. And I don’t wanna see myself without you for another 11 or 22 or 55 years. I wanna be there with you, protecting you, holding your hand, making you laugh. I wanna be standing by your side when people come visit us and be proud to say I’m there with you. _

_ In other words, I want you to know that my feelings are true. I really love you. I’ve known for 2 years now, but I’m sure I’ve loved you for longer than that. I love you, Aziraphale. _

_ Truly yours, _

_ Anthony _

_ PS: not as friends. I mean, as friends too, but not just as friends. _

He put the letter in his backpack inside his laptop and went to sleep. Of course he couldn’t sleep.

* * *

When he arrived at the farm, his heart was full of joy. Sure he was nervous, but overall, the only thing Anthony was thinking is how this summer could end with he and Aziraphale being boyfriends. Did he consider the fact that the boy’s family surely would go through a meltdown upon finding out? Honestly, no. He wasn’t thinking that far ahead. And he could only thank the illegal ¼ of a pill he had earlier.

The dose was definitely stronger than he was used to. He noticed that his heart was beating even faster, and this time it was past the line of ‘comfortable’. He had to remind himself to try and cut that pill at least once more. Maybe. Because his well being sensation was incredible at the moment. He could do anything. Even hand Aziraphale that letter.

_ I’m gonna kiss Angel this summer  _ was the first thought he had when the driver stopped at the big house.

It was amazing how his fear that Aziraphale could reject him was a distant thought. Like he had simply forgotten that possibility. Did he even remember that Aziraphale told him he was also doing “new” things that couldn’t be explained through the letter? No.

As always, Aziraphale saw him from the window and rushed downstairs. Anthony was in the middle of the path to the door when the boy came running to hug him.

They could be 5, 8, 16 or 50 years old. Anthony would always expect that hug. He let go of his baggage to return the embrace.

“Hey, how are you doing, Angel?”

Aziraphale took his backpack to help Anthony, sparkling with joy.

“Great! I’m marvelous. Tick-tee-boo. What about you? Oh! Yes, I remember…” he lowered his voice, trying to seem more worried. “You broke up with Anathema, didn’t you? Are you okay?”

Aziraphale’s mother appeared at the door as they approached it. Although she had a sweet smile on her face, Anthony couldn’t see her with the same eyes. Now she was more like a wolf than a sheep. Hopefully, his new vision on her wouldn’t reflect on how he talks to her. Last thing he needs is Mrs. Eaven being against his presence in the house.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” said Anthony. “Hello, Mrs. Eaven. It’s good to see you again.”

Her smile widened even further as she opened the door for them to enter.

“It’s always a pleasure to have you here, Anthony. Your bed is already in Aziraphale’s room. And we’ve cleaned half of his wardrobe so you can put your clothes there. We’ve figured that you’d need more space now.”

“Thank you very much, Mrs. Eaven.”

They went upstairs, passing by Gabriel’s room, still empty - the older brother would likely arrive within the next days to spend summer at home. The TV room, right next to it, had been redecorated, he noticed.

“Wanna see?” Aziraphale asked, noticing how Anthony’s eyes lingered there. “It’s a library,” he explained, stopping to show the room, proudly. “I’ve organized everything. The books I got from Madame Tracy are over there,” he pointed at one of the shelves near a desk.

“You’ve done all this by yourself?”

“Well, my dad built the shelves and brought them here,” he answered. “I’ve found out that he… he likes working on these things, ou know? He likes when he’s needed. So I’ve asked him to draw and build the shelves.”

“Oh. How is he?”

Aziraphale didn’t answer immediately. He left the library and continued to his bedroom. The room had also changed a bit. The old shelf that used to hold all his books had been replaced with a desk with a lamp for him to study. But the rest was sort of the same.

“He’s trying to work more,” Aziraphale answered, closing the door, “but I see him sad all the time. My mum is constantly mad at him. They barely talk to each other. He sleeps in his office most nights.”

Anthony nodded, not sure of how to respond to that.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Aziraphale shook his head and opened a smile in order to change the mood of the conversation.

“You can help by going with me to a birthday party.”

“How exactly would that…”

“Shush,” the boy interrupted. “Don’t question. Now tell me about the break up. Are you okay?”

Anthony put his baggage near one of the beds and sat down. The letter was in his laptop, inside the backpack. Should he hand it to him now? Or should he test the waters before doing so?

“Oh, that,” he said, dismissively. “I’ve come to the conclusion that Anathema is just my friend, you know? We like being with each other, but we’re not really  _ in love _ .”

Aziraphale sat on the same bed, turned towards Anthony.

“How could you tell?”

Anthony shrugged. Another opportunity to hand him the letter, but he didn’t.

“I just could. I don’t know. I feel like it was the right thing to do and Anathema agrees now. We’re still good friends. And I think I’ll date men at least once. Fred was my only kiss with a guy and I don’t feel like it counts.”

Aziraphale’s lips twitched. The boy pouted, then smiled, and Anthony didn’t know what to take from that reaction.

“There was that thing I said I was doing,” Aziraphale started.

And only then he remembered. There was really something, wasn’t there? Something he hadn’t asked before because he was too scared.

“Hm?”

He didn’t want to say any words. They’d sound full of jealousy.

“I’ve been...writing some dirty things,” Aziraphale told him, lowering his voice to the point of forcing Anthony to lean forward to hear.

“Writing?”

“Yes, in letters. To Oscar.”

Anthony’s stomach felt like it had been punched so hard that a hole was left in its place.

“Oscar? I thought he had a boyfriend.”

“That was ages ago. He’s single now. You’re not jealous of him anymore, are you?”

Anthony’s head went in danger mode. How did he know? The red alarm was ringing so loud in his brain that it was a miracle that some part of his mind managed to remember that years ago, little Anthony had admitted to little Angel that he was jealous of Oscar. Of course that, back then, his jealousy was only regarding their friendship. Now it was completely different.

“I don’t know,” Anthony answered. It was a lie - he did know - but not a blatant lie, like saying that he wasn’t jealous. “What… why did you write those letters?”

“Curiosity, to be honest. It’s not like I have the chance to know what these things are like. Everyone around here knows me. So I can’t just… kiss someone.”

So it was a way to have an experience with sex without risking himself. It made sense and it was perfectly understandable, but it did not ease the pain in Anthony’s stomach. Why Oscar? Why not him? He should ask if Oscar was in love with Aziraphale, or if Aziraphale was in love with Oscar, but he couldn’t bring himself to it. The words had sunk into the hole that his stomach had become.

“So you just wanted to…”

“Know what it’s like,” Aziraphale interrupted, “because honestly, I’m 16 and it seems like everyone knows everything about relationships.”

“Nobody really does, you know. People just pretend.”

“Well, everyone kissed someone. Everyone tried… something. You did. Lots of it.”

“Hm, there’s always porn.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“Seriously? I have no phone, no computer, and I’m 16. What porn am I going to see other than Oscar’s letters?”

Anthony’s cheeks blushed instantly.

“I do have a laptop,” he hinted, not sure if this was going to be taken well or not.

“And we have no internet here,” Aziraphale replied, not blinking or blushing. There was really zero embarrassment in the other.

“If we can go to a coffee shop with internet, I could try to download something and we could…”

_ Really? You’re proposing to watch porn together? You wrote that loving letter to come here and watch porn together? Is that your great idea? _

“You think it would be okay?” asked Aziraphale.

_ He likes the idea, go for it. _

“I didn’t know you were interested on that, I could’ve downloaded them at home,” said Anthony.

“I’m not. Well, not specifically that. I’m just curious, if that makes any sense.”

It did make a lot of sense, of course. All teenagers are curious about sex, and when you’re gay, the information just tends to arrive a lot later. When you’re gay with homophobic parents living in a small town where everyone knows you and you have no internet, information is just nonexistent.

Which could potentially mean that the first time Aziraphale sees actual gay sex is while Anthony is sitting right next to him.

Oh, well.

“We can go to a coffee shop and I’ll download something, yeah?”

Aziraphale smiled so innocently that it definitely didn’t seem like he was being thankful for porn.

“What about that birthday you talked about?”

“Ah, yes. Newt’s birthday. He keeps complaining that I never go to his birthdays because you’re here. So I told him I’d take you with me. He’s a little afraid of you, but he agreed this time.”

Anthony blinked a few times.

“He’s afraid of me?”

“I think everyone will be afraid of you,” Aziraphale giggled, standing up. “Either that or they’ll be attracted to you. Different guy wearing different clothes.”

“So which one are you?”

Anthony had no idea of how he had managed to say those words. Where did they come from? What really happened here? The pills, for sure. There was no other explanation. He had no option but to wait for Aziraphale’s reaction.

And the boy was really caught by surprise. He was walking to his wardrobe when the question was made. He stopped for just a fraction of a second, then continued walking.

“A bit of both, I would say?” he answered, turning to him with a giggle. It was almost imperceptible, but his cheeks were definitely a little bit blushed.

“Good, then,” Anthony replied, giving him a smile.

His smile, of course, was nothing compared to the fireworks going on in his head.

“I’m gonna change and then we can go to the coffee shop.”

“Already?” he asked, surprised. 

So Aziraphale really wanted to do this. He was anxious. At first it was weird to think of Angel being so eager to watch porn, but then again, the whole family thing put in context, he wasn’t really wanting to  _ get off _ on that, was he? He wanted to see it out of curiosity. He wanted to know what it was like, how it looks like, how people feel when they are having sex. He had to remind himself of this intention when playing a porn video for him. Take it easy.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” he answered.

With his laptop inside his backpack, Anthony and Aziraphale walked together to the city. It was a moderate walk to the coffee shop, so they had lots of time to talk. But they were silent for the first 5 minutes, only interrupted by Aziraphale giggling.

“What are you laughing about?” asked Anthony.

“Your walking. Looks like you’re on a catwalk.”

Anthony blushed and frowned.

“What?! Shut up!”

Aziraphale continued to giggle.

“Look at your hips, darling.”

“Yeah?! Well, your clothes are  _ old _ .”

That didn’t seem to work to make the other stop laughing.

“You hear me? Your clothes are so old that my grandfather could be wearing them!” he insisted upon being ignored.

“Is that all that the bad boy Anthony can say?” Aziraphale challenged him.

Everything Anthony could say disappeared from his head. He gasped and stuttered but couldn’t form any sentence. 

“Uh-ah-eeehhh-yooou—-eh”

Aziraphale laughed out loud and kept walking ahead of him while Anthony was stuck trying to find something to point out about Aziraphale.

How would he, though, if he loved everything about him?

“Come on, snake boy,” teased Aziraphale.

Anthony sighed. The  _ snake _ thing didn’t bother him anymore. He liked it now. He was wearing that title proudly. Angel knew. He never told him, but he knew. With nothing to say about his best friend, he ran until he reached him and continued to walk by his side.

“Do you have any… type of video you’d like to see first?” Anthony questioned.

“I’ve never seen anything, so I don’t know.”

Anthony pursed his lips. This sort of thing is very personal. He didn’t want to show something that Aziraphale wouldn’t like.

“Well, you must have an idea. You… wrote those letters.”

Aziraphale didn’t answer immediately, humming as he tried to come up with a response.

“I suppose I would like to see the basics. Nothing aggressive. Romantic, if possible.”

“I’m not sure you’ll get romance from porn,” Anthony giggled. “I have to say I’m proud that you’re taking the initiative to search for this. Because… you still go to church, right?”

Aziraphale pouted and frowned.

“Who says God is against sexual intercourse?” he complained. “Didn’t He create two humans and told them to populate the Earth? That’s an awful lot of sex.”

Anthony nodded, surprised by the line of thought. He wasn’t going to mention the  _ gay _ sex part. He was already tormented enough by that fear and guilt. This was good for him. Let him not think about his family this once.

“Are we going to watch it in your room?”

“At first I thought we could. Late at night. With no sound. But Gabriel will arrive today and… I feel like he’s starting to suspect me. I fear he might open my door without knocking.”

It wasn’t a weird conclusion. In fact, it was the only obvious thing to happen. While his parents could ignore and pretend like it wasn’t right under their noses in order to make him feel like it’s unsafe to come out, Gabriel was more likely to investigate. And Aziraphale was far from discrete. Despite his effort to hide this secret, no one would say he was straight. Gabriel probably knew by now and was expecting to catch him doing something to compromise himself.

“So where?”

“I think we can go to the lake. It’s far enough. We can have sound on too.”

A fire began down Anthony’s throat, making his cheeks burn. The lake was still a place with lots of potential embarrassments for him. His memory of dreams and incidents was enough to make him get in trouble there. Now he’d create some new memories of Aziraphale watching porn for the first time.

“Sure, okay. Tomorrow?”

“We can go today,” Aziraphale answered.

“Damn, Angel. Eager, aren’t we? It’s not that amazing, you know? I mean, I’m a lot sexier than the actors,” Anthony said, winking at him playfully.

And that was 100% thanks to the methamphetamine.

“Good that we’ll be at the lake, then. If I’m bored you can be a distraction.”

Shots fired.

Where did that come from?

The laughing that followed those words sounded a lot like Fred’s way of flirting.

“Anthony?”

He lifted his head and realized that he kept walking while Aziraphale had stayed behind at the entrance of the coffee shop. He didn’t know how long ago that phrase had been said or if Aziraphale said anything else afterwards, but the teasing stayed in his head while they sat at the coffee shop and the boy distracted everyone so Anthony could browse through porn sites to download videos. But now this mission was a hell lot more important. Because Aziraphale was teasing him. And they’d be at the lake watching it together. Anthony’s heart beating too fast to be healthy. It seemed like he’d lose at least a couple years of his life span with that adrenaline being pumped through his body. 

When he opened the laptop, the letter fell near Aziraphale’s feet. The adrenaline made him jump like a cat to catch the paper before his friend could do it for him.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing. Trash,” he answered, tossing it inside his backpack.

“You throw trash in your backpack?”

“Go distract the waiter, Angel.”

He conveniently chose videos with a blonde and a ginger. Then another one with two dark haired guys, just so it wouldn’t be too obvious. Simple videos with blowjobs and gentle sex. And an important feature: bottoms coming while being penetrated.

After all the videos had been downloaded, he closed the laptop and remained seated.

“I want a coffee and some food that takes more than 10 minutes to be ready,” said Anthony to the waiter that Aziraphale had been talking to.

“Do you want a sandwich?” the confused waiter asked.

“That will do.”

Aziraphale returned to the table, smiling.

“Everything good?”

“I think it’s pretty good, yes.”

“Must be. Cross those legs, dear.”

Anthony laughed, mildly embarrassed, and did cross his legs.

“We can go as soon as you calm down.”

“Agreed,” Anthony replied, taking a deep breath. “You’re really okay with this? With all the… implications.”

“You’re my best friend. If I have to trust anyone to do embarrassing things with, it’s you, right?”

“Right. Yes,” he nodded, tapping on the table.

“Unless you’re not comfortable doing this.”

“Oh, no. No, it’s alright. Me? I do this all the time. I mean, with Fred. I’ve watched porn with Fred… a few times.”

_ Great way to make it seem like he’s not special to you, idiot. Not to mention it’s a lie. _

He looked away before he could see Aziraphale’s reaction to this. He also said nothing, which was, in a way, also a reaction.

He didn’t eat the sandwich. Truth was he wasn’t hungry, just waiting for his erection to stop. So he gave Aziraphale the sandwich and packed his laptop. Once they were done, they started walking again. But this time out of the city, following the lake trail.

It took them 40 minutes to get there. It seemed like an eternity, and at the same time, it passed too fast. Because Anthony was still trying to figure out how to act, how to talk, how to do anything. How to sound cool and collected, but still show just enough interest to make him think about it but not be sure. Felt like dancing on the head of a pin. When they arrived, he still didn’t know how to best approach the situation. So he just let himself be led. Improvise.

Aziraphale found a comfortable place to sit and rest their backs on a tree while the laptop was left on a rock in front of them. They were side by side, with a few inches separating their legs.

“Do I need to ask you again if you’re certain about this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be, Anthony? It’s just two humans having intercourse. It’s okay.”

“Right. But I mean… we’ll be probably...”

“You can masturbate if you need,” the boy quickly said.

Anthony swallowed dry.

“You can too.”

He hesitated as he moved to reach the laptop.

“Why are you so nervous? I’ve seen you naked lots of times. Sometimes even aroused. And I’ve woken up with your arousal on my back countless times. I think we’re safe with each other, right?”

Anthony nodded. It was true, but the fact that he was ridiculously in love with his best friend wasn’t being taken into that context.

He opened the first video, carefully choosing the one with two dark haired boys first, then sat back.

The actors were fully dressed at the beginning of the video, but the first scene already had them kissing on the bed. Anthony watched Aziraphale from the corner of his eye. He wasn’t even blinking. 

The two actors started undressing each other slowly, groping their erections over any remaining fabric. They hummed and moaned. When the first cock appeared, Anthony watched his friend again, without turning his head, but there was no change in his curious expression.

The first reaction came when one of the actors moved down to suck the other’s cock.

He didn’t see. He just heard Aziraphale inhaling and moving. The sound caught his attention, so he made a huge effort to look at his friend through the barely reflecting screen of the laptop. And he was  _ biting _ his lower lip.

_ Great, you might not survive this, idiot. I hope you’re happy, _ said Anthony’s thoughts to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about where that stopped.


	13. Thank you for my pornography - pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is 100% rating M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you this chapter wouldn't take long

Being the horny teenager that he was, Anthony didn’t need more than a mere subtext of sex to have inconvenient erections when they were not needed or appropriate. In fact, sometimes it would happen without any mention of sex. The teacher of sex ed told them that this is very normal and would stop after puberty. Anthony still had a few years of random erections to go through, then.

So if he’d get turned on with literally nothing, realizing that Aziraphale was parting his lips at the sight of a blowjob was long past the line of ‘enough’ for an erection.

It was different, though. His whole body was committed to this, not only his cock. His arousal could be felt through his legs, up his spine, bringing flame to his chest and color to his cheeks. His mouth was dry and his forehead was wet. His jeans was too tight on his groin, but he doubted that this pressure was responsible for the aching in his cock.

“How does that feel?” Aziraphale asked, breaking the silence among them.

Anthony had never sucked a cock. He had his cock sucked, but not the other way around. He wasn’t entirely sure if he should tell the truth or lie here.

“It feels really good,” he answered, “really warm and sexy.”

He cleared his throat, which felt painfully dry after speaking.

“Doing it or when someone does it for you?”

“I’ve never done it. I’ve only received it. I’ve done it to women only. Woman. Anathema.”

“Never Fred?”

He truly felt like he could pretty much sleep with Fred with no questions asked. If he wanted to suck a cock, Fred wouldn’t decline. When Aziraphale threw him that question, he was shocked for not knowing why he hadn’t yet tried it with Fred, as if it was something he had forgotten to ask for the past months. When he tried to remember if this thought had occurred to him after breaking up with Anathema, he could only recall spending these two months thinking about Aziraphale, to the point that he  _ really _ forgot he could have these experiences with Fred.

“Not yet, no,” he answered, “but it’s more because I just didn’t want to so far. I’m sure he’d want to.”

“You’re really good friends with him.”

“Why do you say that?”

On the laptop, the boy giving head was looking up at the other as he bobbed his head, treating his cock like the best thing he had ever tasted. An eagerness that was incredibly hot.

“You have enough intimacy with him to ask for sexual contact with no further implications.”

He tried to swallow again, but ended up swallowing nothing. When did his mouth got this dry? Well, it definitely got drier now that he was given the chance to propose that they could have that intimacy too.

“You’re my best friend, though,” he said, without looking at him, too nervous to see his reaction.

The other said nothing. On the screen, the boy receiving the blowjob made the other stop. When his cock was pulled from the other’s mouth, it was so hard that his veins were very apparent all over the wet shaft. He held it by the base, trying to control his need to come, and a drop of precome dripped from the head.

In Anthony’s pants he could feel the same happening.

Both of the boys changed position on the bed, moving so that the one that was sucking was now over the other. With his cock still hard enough to point upwards when laying down on his back, he opened his legs wide to receive his partner. The camera focused on his arse while the top prepared his cock with lube to penetrate him.

Anthony made the mistake to check Aziraphale then. The boy had a very visible tent on his cotton trousers.

“Oh God,” he whispered under his breath, not even realizing he had said it out loud.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

“Does it hurt?” Aziraphale asked, talking about being penetrated.

“A bit,” he answered, talking about his own cock.

“So you did it?”

Anthony blinked, not understanding the question, then shook his head to clear his thoughts.

“No, I mean… No, I haven’t done that. I imagine it must hurt if you’re not careful. But it feels incredible.”

“He seems to enjoy it.”

“Well, he’s an actor. Fred says that some men just don’t feel that good when doing it. Some feel good but can’t come if you don’t touch their cock. And some can come only with that.”

Aziraphale was moving on his his spot, probably trying to find a comfortable position for his legs.

“I don’t think I can,” Aziraphale said. “Have an orgasm untouched. Can you?”

“I-eh-hm..”

He could. Easily. He had come untouched with the thought of Aziraphale fucking him. After that, he tried masturbating by fingering himself. His orgasms were even easier and a lot stronger when he touches his prostate and his recovery time was considerably shorter. He never told Fred.

“Well, there’s no way to know if you haven’t done, yes? Sorry, I forgot.”

“You can know,” Anthony quickly said, “because you can finger yourself. I don’t know if that’s the same...I mean, you know what you’re feeling so you know what to do. Maybe there’s people who can come masturbating but not having sex.”

“And did you try it?”

Anthony nodded, silently.

“And can you?”

He nodded again. Aziraphale said nothing else. The two on the screen were having some passionate sex. At some point, the bottom pushed the other to be on top, sitting on his hips and bouncing on his cock. He was still very hard and dripping. Anthony and Aziraphale didn’t chat anymore for a good period, which made the ginger not realize that his friend was pressing his palm over his own groin. When he glanced to the side, he was already doing it, and he had no idea for how long.

The couple on screen intensified their movements. The sound of their bodies colliding got louder, along with their moans. The bottom started stroking his own cock, mouth open, and finally came over the other’s chest. The top held his hips harder and stopped him from moving so that he could thrust his hips faster against him. Mere seconds later, he was spurting come inside of his arse.

The camera moved closer to show the last drops when the cock was pulled out and rubbed between the bottom’s arse cheeks.

Anthony kneeled up and crawled to the laptop. The video ended as soon as he reached it. He closed it and clicked on the next one. A personal favorite for many reasons.

After sitting back by Aziraphale’s side, he made sure that his arms weren’t covering the volume pressing against his jeans. Aziraphale obviously wanted to get off, but he probably wouldn’t do it before Anthony does, so he had to make sure that his friend was very aware of how much he needed to do it.

The video started showing only a blond guy around 20-21 years old. He was reading an adult comic book on a couch and had an obvious erection going on. At some point he opened his zipper and pulled his cock out to stroke himself. Shortly after, a ginger bloke - thin, tall, with green eyes - enters the room. The blond one is caught by surprise and covers his cock with the comic book.

_ “Hey dude, what are you reading?” _

_ “Nothing,”  _ the blond one answers, nervously, or at least trying to act nervously.

_ “What’s that on your lap, then?” _

The ginger sits by his side literally throwing himself over the back of the couch.

_ “It’s nothing, can I read in peace?” _

_ “I just wanna see what it is.” _

The ginger pulls the comic book, revealing the other’s hard cock - which the actor worries very little about hiding, despite his character being worried about it seconds before, as if there was no other possible way to cover it anymore.

_ “Oh, it’s a naughty comic book, isn’t it?”  _ the ginger says, looking down at the other’s cock with interest.  _ “Isn’t it boring to just read? Why not make it real?” _

The ginger then proceeds to move to the other’s lap and rub his arse over the other’s erection slowly.

“That makes little sense,” said Aziraphale.

“Porn makes little sense,” Anthony answered. “You don’t like it?”

“I like it. I like this one more so far.”

“Me too.”

The ginger actor started to kiss the blond one as his arse was groped. Still, he was the one in control, teasing the other.

This particular video was something of a weakness for Anthony. He knew he’d come in his pants in this situation if he didn’t touch himself, and that would likely be worse than simply stroking himself.

So when the blond actor slid his hand inside the ginger’s trousers and started fingering him - and oh, the bottom’s moans were very, very realistic - Anthony undid his zipper and pulled his cock out.

His cheeks were as red as his hair, but this was too much to handle. Aziraphale right there with him and his favorite video playing was not something he could resist. The lightest touch on his shaft made him shiver and curl his toes. There was lots of precum making the whole head of his cock very wet.

He didn’t glance to the side to see if Aziraphale was looking, but he could  _ feel _ like he was. So he was stroking his cock for his best friend to see. And his ego did inflate a bit.

The ginger actor got rid of all his clothes and moved back to the other’s lap, kneeling on the couch with each leg on the side of the blond’s thighs. This resulted in his cock being at the right height so that it could be sucked, and his legs were parted enough so that his hole could be fingered.

The camera showed a zoomed in shot of his cock in the other’s mouth, then a different shot of the finger going in and out.

Anthony was very focused on that scene, so it caught him by surprise when Aziraphale moved in order to open his own trousers.

Of course he had seen Aziraphale naked countless times. Nudity was never a problem between them. But unlike Anthony, the other had never been seen hard. So it was a lot more difficult to glance to the side unnoticed when his eyes were so eagerly drawn to Aziraphale’s hard cock.

He was thick. That much he could definitely say. Not particularly big, but definitely thicker than Anthony. And his mind traveled away to wonder how it would feel in his arse.

The ginger actor moved away from the other’s mouth, smirking at how the blond tried to keep sucking him. He grabbed a bottle of lube and squeezed it on his hand, then moved it to his own arse to spread the lube in his hole. He teased himself with it, shoving two fingers, moaning and looking at the blond. The blond watched with lust in his eyes. Like if he could attack the other at any moment. But he waited. And waited when the ginger stroke his cock to spread lube on it too. Only when the ginger moved to get on all fours did and invited him to fuck him by showing his arse up in the air did the blond actually took action.

They immediately started fucking. The bottom was very vocal and loud. Each thrust against his arse made him moan. And his pleasure was clear by how he moved his hips back to meet the other’s body, as if he wasn’t being given enough dick.

The camera showed how his cock was dripping lots and lots of precum. Anthony knew all these scenes, so he didn’t have to look at the video all the time. His focus was on trying to watch Aziraphale through the reflection of the screen.

He felt a cold down his spine when the saw Aziraphale’s turning slightly to look at him. He was interested. He wanted to see him.

This had to be the most pleasure Anthony ever had with masturbation. His cock was constantly on the edge of orgasm. He had to slow down and hold the base tightly not to come too soon. It was also a moment for him to exhibit himself, knowing that his friend was looking.

He did try to be quiet, but even the way he was breathing heavily made sounds come out of his throat. When the ginger actor held the other to make him stop - because he was clearly overwhelmed despite not touching himself - Anthony moaned louder than he’d ever admit.

He kneeled up, worried that he could come over his own shirt. He wished he was fingering himself right now, because this orgasm would be maddening if he was.

Aziraphale understood the hint. He also kneeled. But Anthony was so close from coming that he didn’t think his friend was gonna come first.

On the screen, the ginger boy was making a desperate face, trying very hard not to come with the slow movements of the blond’s cock over his prostate. Then he obviously gave and just moved back against him. His cock immediately shot lots of cum as he moaned.

Aziraphale also moaned. He also came. But his moans had words.

_ “An--thony” _

Anthony didn’t plan on looking at Aziraphale as he came, but hearing his name made him turn his head instinctively. So what he saw was this angel-like figure with his mouth open and a pain-like expression - that was entirely pleasure - coming in thick shots and  _ moaning his name. _

To say that Anthony came  _ hard _ was an understatement. Instead of an orgasm that you can feel it coming, it was more like a sudden burst. His legs gave in and he sat on his heels, making the spurts of come go up and fall dangerously close to his jeans. And it kept coming until he was weak and sweating, with no trace of saliva in his mouth.

“Fuck,” he whispered, eyes closed.

For a while, he was just breathing. He had never felt sleepy after an orgasm, but now he definitely could take a nap. Without opening his eyes, he heard Aziraphale moving by his side. When the sound was of the other walking away, he looked to see what he was doing.

Aziraphale was completely naked, walking to the lake.

“We need to wash ourselves, Anthony.”

He tried to swallow again, but still no saliva. Weakly, he closed the laptop and stood up to take off his clothes.His cock was in a hard to soft estate, still very sensitive, and he could feel each time that it touched his legs as he walked.

The water was cold, which was good now. He entered one step at a time, instead of jumping in like he usually does.

What was going to happen now? How would Aziraphale act around him now that this happened? And more importantly, what exactly does it mean that it was his name in his lips when he came?

Now that was something that would haunt his thoughts for a while and he’d never be able to ask.

“Do you have other videos?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony didn’t answer immediately. His head was having quite a lag.

“In the laptop? No. But there are several videos to download.”

“We can watch more some other day,” the blond suggested. “I quite liked it. You can show me the ones you watch with Fred.”

“I do other things with Fred too.”

That was a lie. And an unexpected flirt. The lag can work in different ways. It could make Anthony aware of an answer but take too long to say it out loud, and it can make him say something before being aware of what he wanted to say.

“You’re just making me jealous of your friendship with him,” Aziraphale accused, pouting.

“I’m not,” he lied. He definitely was. “I’m just saying… you don’t need to be jealous.”

He wasn’t sure if Aziraphale understood what he meant.

But he’d find out soon.This was just the first day of summer. A long summer with a shared bed and a new level of intimacy achieved. Apparently, what happened once could happen again. It could become routine. Or they could just be too embarrassed to do it again, on the worst case scenario.

Regardless, Anthony had decided to test the waters before confessing his love. And he was not only testing the waters, but swimming in it. He might as well drink from it. Bathe in it.

_ I might as well give the waters a blowjob before summer ends, _ Anthony thought, watching said “water” look like a perfect, innocent and cheerful cherub that hadn’t just whispered his name while having an orgasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves for a hot summer. But don't get too attached to tranquility.


	14. Days of summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look, I'm not taking 2 weeks to post anymore.  
Also, things are gonna happen a bit faster now.

** _First night of summer_ **

  
  


They weren’t going to put the beds together this time. But when Gabriel arrived, near dinner time, he was alone and looking devastated. He didn’t say a word while the two boys were near, but Aziraphale later told Anthony that he had probably broken up with Sandy.

“I thought they were going to get married,” Anthony commented.

“Everyone thought they were going to get married.”

“What happened?”

“He’s been acting weird, honestly. It’s his last year in college, so I don’t know. They were supposed to get married as soon as he graduates.”

When he crossed the corridor to go to the bathroom, he heard Mrs. Eaven saying that this whole college thing was a mistake and he should’ve gotten married first, then go to college. Gabriel was weirdly quiet about it. He went to his room and didn’t leave. So Anthony and Aziraphale felt safe to lock the door and put the beds together.

Of course Anthony dreamed about what happened. It was impossible not to. It was a miracle that he was able to sleep at all when those thoughts were flying over his head like a thousand birds in a small cage. Not to mention that now, at 16 years old, they were still sleeping like two children holding onto each other.

His dreams were full of sound. Aziraphale moaning his name all the time. Aziraphale embracing him and moaning his name. Aziraphale kissing him and moaning his name. Aziraphale...well, fucking him. And a lot of moaning.

He was awakened by the sunlight on his face. Aziraphale was still on the bed, and not unlike many other times, Anthony was holding his friend like a Teddy bear, limbs going everywhere. Aziraphale was laying on his back, already awake, but yawning, which meant that he hadn’t woken up long ago.

And he had a quite impressive morning wood going on. And that was a first. He didn’t remember seeing Aziraphale like that in the morning.

“Oh bugger,” the angel-like boy complained, like a kid mildly annoyed by not having the right flavor of cookies to eat.

“That’s what you get for watching porn,” Anthony whispered, still sleepy, with a husky lazy voice.

“You watch a lot of porn, then.”

Anthony giggled and moved his hips, pressed against Aziraphale’s leg.

The blond sat up, stretched, yawned again, then stood up from the bed.

“I need to wash these,” he said, promptly taking off his sleeping shorts and shirt.

Anthony lost the ability to think. Yes, they had always been comfortable naked around each other. Yes, nothing new to see here. But their nudity was casual. As in,  _ if it happens, it’s okay _ . Not  _ I’m gonna strip before getting to the bathroom and by the way I’m hard. _

Anthony watched that damn angel walking naked to the bathroom and not a single thought was formulated in his head while he did so. Only when the door was closed did he manage to speak.

“Are you gonna take long in there?” he yelled.

“You can come in if you need,” Aziraphale answered.

He didn’t. He swallowed his  _ courage _ pill and stayed on the bed waiting and cursing for not going in.

** _Third day of summer_ **

Anthony loves the way Aziraphale eats. He really indulges himself. Anything looks a lot tastier when the boy is eating, because he makes the most delicious sounds of approval at each spoon, always with a wide smile that causes his cheeks to look round and very cherub-like.

At the moment it was ice cream. They came to the coffee shop again so Anthony could download new videos. But it was hard to pay attention on porn when Aziraphale was licking his spoon and humming. Somehow that was a lot more effective for him than the actors actually doing it on screen.

And because that’s what was on his head at the moment - purely because of his friend enjoying vanilla ice cream like it was something divine - Anthony chose only that kind of videos. No penetration at all. Just blowjobs.

When the download was done, he closed the laptop and put it back in his backpack.

“Need some time?”

“Hm,” Anthony replied, nodding. “You really love that ice cream, don’t you?”

“Want some?”

“I enjoy it more when you’re eating, Angel.”

Sure Aziraphale wouldn’t see anything wrong with that phrase. He was still innocent in some level, even if for lack of contact with internet or any form of information. So he was safe.

He had his doubts when the boy smiled and took a spoonful in his mouth. When he got a bit of cream on his fingers, Aziraphale sucked his thumb with that same pure delight face, letting the finger linger in his mouth.

It couldn’t be on purpose. Aziraphale hadn’t seen that sort of teasing anywhere. Anthony had to remind himself that everything the boy does has some effect on him and it doesn’t mean that Aziraphale is trying to actively tease him.

But he did. And he needed more time to recover.

** _Sixth day of summer_ **

Gabriel was slowly recovering from his sadness. He was still a lot quieter than usually, but now he was coming down to eat with the rest of the family.

That meant that the boys couldn’t put their beds together anymore. Gabriel was constantly passing by the room and more than once he had opened the door to ask silly things.

Anthony wished that his situation with Aziraphale was at the level that Gabriel clearly thought it was, thinking he’d catch them doing something at 2pm like two horny boyfriends.

And not sleeping together was very weird. He was too used with waking up pressed against Aziraphale. Now he’d wake up and feel nothing. Empty mattress. And his friend sleeping about a meter away.

Because of Gabriel’s surveillance, they didn’t risk watching the downloaded videos in the house either.

On top of that, Aziraphale was now getting suspiciously more oftenly naked in front of him. Almost as if he was  _ showing off _ . Not teasing. Not inviting. Just showing off. Like if he knew that Anthony enjoyed his body and wanted that praising.

So things were starting cool down between them but heating up for Anthony. Which created an unbearable situation.

In the sixth morning of summer, Anthony woke up to see Aziraphale looking out the window.

“What are you seeing?” Anthony asked, yawning.

“Gabriel is going out to buy groceries,” Aziraphale answered. “There. He’s gone.”

“So…”

Aziraphale walked around the beds to lock the bedroom door.

“Can we see the video? I mean, if you don’t want to, can I see it?” he asked.

“Hm, sure.”

Anthony pointed at his backpack, resting on a chair. Aziraphale quickly reached it and pulled the laptop.

A very known envelope fell on the floor when he did so, making Anthony’s heart go from 0 to one hundred. Before he knew, he had jumped from the bed and crossed the room to pick it up before Aziraphale could.

“What is that, a love letter?” Aziraphale giggled.

“Hm? uh? ah-eh, no-eehh”

The boy didn’t care much about the answer, though. He was already heading to the bed with the laptop. Anthony stood there for a while, thinking whether he should just say ‘yes’ and give the letter to the love of his life. It was a chance.

But he didn’t. He threw it back in the backpack and followed Aziraphale.

“Do you intend on…” Anthony asked, making a suggestive movement with his fist.

“I don’t know. Are the videos good?”

He shrugged.

“I’m just saying that you could make a mess on your clothes or the sheets.”

“You’re right.”

Aziraphale stood up and undressed completely.

Well, that was happening very easily now, wasn’t it?

“I think I’ve see you more times naked than dressed this summer, Angel,” Anthony giggled, starting to take off his shirt as well.

“You mind? I can put some old clothes too.”

“No, I don-”

“I know I’m fat, so…”

“What?”

“I mean, I should’ve asked you if you mind…”

“Wait, what did you say?”

Aziraphale was now placing a pillow over his lap to cover his stomach. The whole thing went from potentially horny to weird and absurd very quickly.

“I should’ve asked you before…”

“No. You really think…”

“I’m fat, right? Gabriel said I should lose some weight.”

Usually Anthony feels only fear and a little bit of annoyance for Gabriel. Now he was feeling hatred. True hatred. If he was anywhere around, he was sure that he’d end up punching the dick for making Aziraphale feel bad about his body. But he wasn’t, so his impulsivity and anger made Anthony stand in front of Aziraphale and point at him as if he had done something terribly wrong.

“You have a perfect beautiful body, do you understand? Every inch of it is gorgeous,” he said, waving his finger towards the other’s face, “and not only I don’t mind you being naked, but I also love it. And perhaps that’s a bit inappropriate but I  _ really _ like seeing you naked, so lose that pillow!” he finished. Then took a deep breath and realized he was being a dick too. “I mean, if you want to. You can keep it if you want. And if you don’t want me looking now that I said I enjoy it, you can also put clothes on. You know… anyway. Eh.”

Aziraphale blinked a few times. It took him way too long to speak. And before that happened, they heard Mrs. Eaven’s voice from outside.

_ “Boys, come have breakfast, it’s on the table!” _

They both widened their eyes and rushed to get dressed properly. The laptop was closed and packed. No video was watched that day. But some things changed.

  
  


**10th night of summer**

Anthony was a hundred and twenty percent sure that Aziraphale was showing off. After he confessed enjoying his naked body, the boy would take every opportunity to take off his clothes. The peak was on the 10th night of summer, when he decided that it was too hot to sleep with any piece of clothing.

**14th night of summer**

Not being able to sleep with Aziraphale had consequences for Anthony. His insomnia was his companion for many, many years. But he had always been able to sleep when he was with his best friend. Now it was proven that it was the contact that made him sleep peacefully, not just knowing that he was right there. Because each night he slept less and less, and on the 14th night he woke up at 3am, unable to sleep again.

He cursed and kept trying. Until he heard a low voice.

He stopped moving to pay attention on the noise. It was Aziraphale’s voice. After checking, it was clear that he was still sleeping.

_ “Hm, yes,”  _ the sleeping boy whispered,  _ “Anthony, ah.” _

That.

That was a moan.

That was definitely a moan.

And Anthony lost all hope to sleep again. Ever in his life.

** _16th day of summer_ **

It had been two weeks since he downloaded the last videos and they had no opportunity to watch them. So they decided to just go back to the lake. This time, because of this new information about Aziraphale’s dreams, Anthony was more confident to ask for more than just wanking together. This confidence, however, was just regarding the proposition. He was still nervous and his legs would feel weak whenever he considered the idea of touching his friend that way.

They took off their clothes - Aziraphale first, being so eager to get naked lately - and sat side by side on the same spot of weeks before. The laptop was placed on the same rock. The new video was opened and played.

Two friends. Early twenties. Wanking together until one of them looks at the other and licks his lips. He extends his hand towards his friend’s leg to caress his thigh. The other opens his legs invitingly. Anthony was starting to blush, regretting that he was being so obvious with the choice of the video. Aziraphale wasn’t saying anything, but his body was already reacting.

The boy touches his friend’s cock and gives it some strokes. After just a few seconds, he leans forward and starts to suck him very eagerly, closing his eyes, savoring the precum. Anthony can feel his face in flames. Internally, he was begging for Aziraphale to say something. All his courage of proposing the same simply vanished. They were both rock hard, but no contact was being made.

“Shame we can’t do that,” Aziraphale finally said.

Anthony’s soul left his body, flew to the sky and came back, slapping his face on the way in.

“Sorry?”

“That. It’s a shame we can’t do that.”

Anthony had a hard penis in his hand and a very confused expression. Not exactly what he was planning for the day.

“Why can’t we do that? I mean, why… if you… I mean-eh. Uh--ah. If you’d like, I think… why wouldn’t you…?”

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” Aziraphale answered, calmly. Too calm for someone who was wanking to porn. “And there’s a correct order for things, right? I can’t just go ahead and have oral sex before I’ve even kissed someone.”

“Well, technically, you can.”

“Yes, but it would be weird. I don’t wanna remember things like that. With this coming before a first kiss.”

Anthony went quiet. The two actors on screen were very far from quiet. Even the one with the cock in his throat was humming and moaning. The other was groaning and making faces.

“So… you’d want to do that with me if you had kissed already?” he asked.

“I don’t see why not. You’d do that with Fred, wouldn’t you?”

“I’ve kissed Fred too.”

They both got quiet again. But Aziraphale wasn’t embarrassed of this talk. He wasn’t touching himself anymore. Instead, he seemed to be thinking about that topic.

“Yes, but I don’t want it to happen like this.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I don’t wanna have this story to tell. That I kissed my best friend just so I could have oral sex with him right after.”

“So how do you want it to be?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “How was your first kiss?”

“Anathema just kissed me. Just like that. We didn’t talk about it.”

“Then surprise me.”

They had to change the video in order to continue masturbating. The first one ended while they were still  _ not there yet _ . But the second video had this man taking the other on his knees and smiling, with the camera in the hands of the guy receiving. Aziraphale came when the actor did. Anthony didn’t. His head was very far from that video. His head was on the fact that Aziraphale allowed him to kiss him.

_ **20th day of summer** _

It wasn’t that simple. Finding the right moment to kiss Aziraphale proved to be a tricky quest. Aziraphale wanted it to be something to remember. It was already a surprise that he didn’t mind it happening with his best friend instead of a boyfriend. But apparently, he didn’t think he’d get a boyfriend anytime soon. And while Anthony had his horny teenage phase at 14 years old - when he’d literally do anything to have sexual contact - Aziraphale was clearly having that phase right now.

Because of that phase, Anthony had gotten himself a girlfriend that he never truly loved romantically. Aziraphale was willing to accept having his first kiss with a friend because of that phase.

So the best Anthony could do to make things better was to become his boyfriend later, so that this first kiss ends up being with a boyfriend. Right?

Right. That sounded good.

He lost a few days thinking of how to do this, how to kiss him. And Aziraphale was clearly expecting it to happen at any moment. They continued their lives during summer, watching movies, going to the city, having lunch together, all that with the expectation of a kiss having at any given moment.

But in the end, it happened as a surprise for both of them.

They had bought some snacks and candies from a shop and returned home to eat. Since it was a very warm day, they sat behind the house, under a tree where Aziraphale used to keep his wooden boat from when they were kids. The trunk was between the house and them, so no one could see the two eating there, unless said person would walk around the tree.

They spread the boxes with donuts and little candies on the grass. Aziraphale was looking delighted with all that sugar. Anthony couldn’t think of anything but about kissing him.

Is it a good moment now?

No one can see us.

But how is this memorable in opposition to any other moment?

Aziraphale hummed when he tasted the strawberry donuts.

“Try this, my dear. It’s lovely,” he said.

Anthony’s head was too far to understand those words. His eyes were locked on the powdered sugar on the corner of the boy’s lips. If he kissed him now, it would taste sweet.

Oh dear.

“Anthony, dear,” he called again, waving in front of his eyes.

“You’ve got something in your mouth,” said Anthony.

“Hm? What?” the boy asked, trying to clean it up.

“Me,” Anthony said.

And kissed him.

He kissed Aziraphale like it was nothing, and in the middle of the kiss, he realized it was everything. He remembered that this was the single most important thing he had ever done. The dream coming true.

The lips did taste sweet. A shiver spread through his neck and down his spine once his mind settled down to calculate what was happening. His stomach ached and, if his eyes were open, he’d realize that he was having a minor drop in his blood pressure. Regardless of that, his heart was pumping up his throat. The intimacy of how close they were now was a lot more intense than their wanking sessions. He could feel his breathing. His taste. His smell. He always knew exactly Aziraphale’s smell, but now it was right under his nose.

He did notice a small hesitation at first, but it was only because of the surprise. His angel-like friend soon began to smile into the kiss, almost like he was about to laugh. Instead of stopping the kiss to start giggling, Anthony parted his lips slightly. Laughing now would make this kiss less important. It would be just a joke between friends. He didn’t want that. He wanted to be good. Memorable. He wanted Aziraphale to desire for more kisses.

So he raised a hand to cup his face and invited him to deepen the intimacy. Wet lips moved over one another to give space for their tongues. The warmth was an extra fuel to Anthony’s passion. Aziraphale wasn’t giggling anymore. They were feeling each other for real.

It didn’t seem to end. None of them wanted it to end, clearly. The hand on his face moved to his neck. They shifted to get more comfortable without breaking the kiss for a second. Aziraphale’s breathing got heavier, sending shivers down Anthony’s groin. He didn’t know if it was intentional or just the boy not knowing what to do with his hands, but while trying to intensify the kiss by leaning forward, Aziraphale rested his hand on Anthony’s thigh.

Anthony could’ve pinned the other on the ground right now.

He tried to move again to hold Aziraphale, but when he put a hand on the ground, he felt the cream of a donuts getting all over his hand and fingers.

“Fuck,” Anthony cursed, stopping the kiss to see the mess he had done.

Aziraphale’s cheeks were flushed all over. He looked at his friend’s hand with a shy, embarrassed smile.

“Looks delicious,” he commented, starting to giggle.

Anthony continued to curse the damn donuts that ruined the moment, getting all grumpy all of sudden.

“It was memorable,” Aziraphale commented while the other wiped his hand, “so thank you.”

He said nothing. His voice wouldn’t come out at the moment, so better avoid the embarrassment.

  
  


** _23th day of summer_ **

Anthony knew none of all those people. He had no idea of why he decided to participate in the game.

But at least now he had seen Newt.

His birthday party wasn’t exactly like Fred’s. There wasn’t many people, just close friends. That included about 10 or 12 people from the school and Anthony himself. The boy was obviously very shy. When talking to Anthony, he kept lowering his eyes as if he was some sort of criminal.

And Anthony did draw a lot of attention with his black tight trousers and the dark glasses, while all the others seemed to have arrived to the party straight from the church.

_ So that’s where Angel gets his clothing style, _ he thought, watching all those teenagers dressing a lot like their parents.  _ Must be a church thing. _

He was happy to be present with Aziraphale, but he couldn’t stop thinking that they could be at home maybe trying to kiss again, or do something else.

But they were here now and they’d be here for a while, so he might as well try to have fun.

The game was truth or dare. Anthony doubted that anything bad could happen. These teens weren’t like his own friends. A truth or dare that includes Fred, Anathema and the rest of his friends would start with a kiss and go downhill from there. These teens probably had never kissed in their lives, so things would stay very safe. And sort of boring. But safe.

Aziraphale was having a lot of fun, in fact. He was good with the dare thing. At least with coming up with funny stuff to do.

When the bottle stopped towards Anthony, he quickly chose dare.

Truth was  _ always _ dangerous.

“I dare you to go to Newt’s father and say you’re actually a snake and come back crawling,” said the girl at the other end of the bottle.

“What the fuck?”

Aziraphale was already laughing.

“That’s kinda funny, dear.”

Anthony sighed and stood up from the circle. Newt’s father was in the living room, preparing the table with the cake. Anthony was followed by the girl who gave him the dare in order to make sure he’d do what he was told. The others stayed behind so it wouldn’t be too obvious that this was a prank.

“Mr. Pulsifer, I…”

The doorbell rang. Anthony breathed in relief.

“Excuse me, my boy. That must be another of Newt’s friend.”

He man went to the door to open it. Anthony stayed on the same spot, waiting, since the girl was eyeing him like she’d tell everyone if he tried to escape the prank.

It was a boy at the door. He had long black hair, which was alone something that got his attention. None of the other boys had long hair. He was wearing a black waistcoat, but it was far from looking old for him. Together with his jeans, his overall style was very modern but classy at the same time. His face was delicate, soft, and his stance was slightly effeminate.

_ Gay _ was the first thing Anthony thought.

“Hi, monsieur-oh. Hm, apologies,” the boy said, with a strong french accent, “Mr. Pulsifer.”

“Hi, Oscar. Good to have you back in England. Newt and the rest are in the dining room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anthony.exe stopped working


	15. Jealousy, love and hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Specifically in that order

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick notes: another thing that Crowley has because of his ADHD is RSD (rejection sensitive dysphoria). If you're ADHD and can relate to the way he feels with the possibility of not being loved back, it's worth to do some research on the topic!  
Another note: I don't speak french, so if there's something wrong with Oscar's words here, do let me know!  
And a third one: I did a drawing for one of the scenes of this chapter. You'll see when you get there :)

The girl - apparently named Maria or something - ran to hug Oscar. The whole prank thing was quickly forgotten, though Anthony would never have completed the task now that Oscar was watching. His mind, thinking a thousand things at the same time, could envision the boy trying to gain Aziraphale’s heart telling him how stupid Anthony seemed the first time he saw him.

Would he, though? Try to gain Aziraphale’s heart? Perhaps he already does. Perhaps he already has it.

Anthony held his breath and gritted his teeth. The spiral of fear, long forgotten during that summer, was returning, and the meth pill he had taken earlier was doing nothing to help.

“ _ Marrie _ ! You look gorgeous,” the boy said happily.

Anthony noticed he carried two gifts, and one of them had the shape of a book. His throat tightened as if the sighting had caused him an allergic reaction.

“Hm, I don’t know you,” Oscar commented, pointing at Anthony.

“This is Crowley. He’s Aziraphale’s friend,” the girl told him.

“Crowley! Anthony Crowley, isn’t it?”

Oscar smiled and approached Anthony to give him a kiss on the cheek. He smelled like expensive cologne, and up close, his skin was even more surprisingly untouched by the damages of pimples that teenage years bring you.

“Yes. Crowley. Angel probably told you about me,” Anthony answered, making an impressive effort to keep his voice stable.

“He did, yes. Many times. He also told me you call him Angel. And he told you about me too, I hope?”

“He did,” Anthony agreed, secretly wondering if this boy was, like himself, having an internal meltdown because of this unexpected meeting.

“I was hoping to meet you someday. You’re exactly like I imagined. But a bit taller, I would say.”

“Not sure if I imagined you in any way,” Anthony replied. “Did Angel know you’d come to visit him? Or is this a surprise?”

That was one of his self destructive questions. Because if Aziraphale knew, he would suffer terribly. That would mean he didn’t tell Anthony about it. And Aziraphale did ask him before if he was still jealous of Oscar. Maybe that was the reason.

“He asked me to pay him a visit and I told him I’d try, but I didn’t confirm I’d be here today,” Oscar answered, “so this is a bit of a surprise, yes. And Newt is also a great friend, so there’s another good reason.”

Anthony nodded, gritting his teeth inside of his closed mouth. He had to breathe and remind himself that nothing of all that would erase the summer they just had. The kiss, the intimacy, the clear developing love they were building. Oscar never had any of the sort with Aziraphale. Asking him to come meant nothing.  _ Nothing. _

So why was his heart aching so badly? Why did he want to cry?

“Come, Aziraphale will freak out when he sees you,” Maria interrupted, pulling Oscar by the hand.

Anthony wanted to run away. He probably would actually run if he hadn’t taken his pill. Run and stop at the lake, probably, about an hour away from where he was. But he stayed and followed the two back to the dining room. He grabbed a cup of soda as he walked and slid his hand into his pocket to grab another pill. No one saw him swallowing it down before they reached the rest of the group.

“Look who’s here!” Maria announced.

Everyone cheered and instantly stood up to go hug the boy. But Anthony’s focus was on Aziraphale’s reaction.

He looked surprised first, with his eyebrows lifting and his mouth open. Then, his eyes moved to Anthony, getting slightly worried, and back to Oscar. A smile formed in his lips and he stood up as well, rushing to get a chance to greet the the visitor.

Oscar didn’t even try to hide his priority here. There was a line to hug and give him welcoming cheek kisses, and he avoided everyone to give Aziraphale a kiss on each cheek. Not the sort of kiss you pretend to give - just putting a cheek against the other - but with his goddamn lips on Angel’s skin.

“Here’s your gift, Newt,” said Oscar, handing one of the packages to him. “And of course I brought you something too,” he said, and gave the book shaped gift to Aziraphale.

“Ohh, he’s so cute,” one of the girls said.

“Open it!” Maria yelled, excited.

So apparently all those teenagers were very aware of this  _ tension _ between Oscar and Aziraphale.

Aziraphale looked at Anthony for a fraction of a second, then started to unwrap the paper.

He’d have bet on an old book, a rare edition, some ridiculously expensive version of any classic. The type of thing that Aziraphale loves. But it was even worse.

The book was just called  _ Poems _ and the writer was Oscar himself. The 17 year old prick.

“You… you wrote a book?” Aziraphale said, shocked.

“What? Oh my God, that’s so cool!” said one of the boys, taking the book from Aziraphale’s hands.

“I told you I’d do it,” Oscar said. “I really want you to read it. There’s a lot for you in there.”

“I think I’m gonna cry,” said Maria. “Oscar, you’re the best.”

Anthony could feel each beat of his heart. And it was speeding up. The pill was definitely starting to be felt. Stronger than ever, given that he had already taken his ¼ of the pill that day. He didn’t know how twice the dose would feel, but it clearly wasn’t making him more relaxed or happy.

“What were you doing before I arrived? I don’t wanna ruin Newt’s party.”

“We were playing truth or dare. Crowley was going to tell Newt’s dad he’s a snake.”

“And he didn’t do it!” Maria pointed out.

“I suppose that’s my fault. I interrupted the prank.”

“Yeah, and I’ve changed my mind about it. I’m not doing it,” Anthony claimed.

“Well, then you have to answer a question,” Maria decided. “What should I ask? I barely know you.”

Anthony shrugged and sat down, crossing his legs. The others returned to their spots. Oscar didn’t sit near Aziraphale, instead opting for a spot on the other side of the circle. Initially, Anthony thought it was weird, but then it became clear and he felt stupid.

The bottle can’t pick two people who are sitting right next to each other.

“Hmmm…” Maria tapped her chin, staring at Anthony, trying to come up with a question.

Aziraphale was oddly quiet, keeping a soft smile, but with his shoulders lowered. Anthony didn’t know what to make of that. The book was in his hand, still unopened.

“Are you a virgin?” Maria finally asked.

Anthony sighed.

“Yes.”

“Really?” she insisted, surprised with the answer.

“I’ve done everything but sex,” he explained.

“Why?”

“I think the question was answered.”

She rolled her eyes and crawled to the center of the circle to spin the bottle. Now he was really mad that he had taken the spot next to Aziraphale. He’d never have the chance to ask him or be asked by him. But it was just a matter of time for the bottle to pick either Aziraphale and Oscar or Anthony and Oscar.

In fact, only three dares and one truth later, the bottle pointed at Oscar and Aziraphale.

Anthony was between running, crying, and trying really hard not to do either of them.

“ _ Action ou verité, _ my dear.”

Aziraphale stuttered.

“Action. I mean, dare.”

What truth did he fear from Oscar?

“ _ Je te défie de m'embrasser _ ”

Anthony frowned. What the fuck was this prick saying? Why couldn’t he just talk normally so everyone would understand? And why did he have to make that accent? Prick.

Aziraphale obviously understood what he meant, because he blushed and released a nervous giggle.

“Kiss him!” one of the girls yelled, obviously understanding the phrase as well.

“What? You can’t just force him to…” Anthony began to desperately complain once he understood the challenge.

“He can opt for truth if he doesn't want to do the dare,” Newt reminded him.

“Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him,” a choir of voices echoed in the dining room.

Aziraphale didn’t look at Anthony before deciding. He crossed the circle on his knees and stopped in front of Oscar. Everyone was being very, very loud, like they were expecting for this for a long time. Oscar also kneeled up. With a hand on his waist, the posh boy leaned forward and pressed his lips against Aziraphale’s.

Anthony felt like throwing up. He didn’t see the scene. Seconds before the contact, he shut his eyes. But he heard everyone going insane and clapping.

When he opened his eyes, Aziraphale was already moving back to his spot.

“He’s so romantic! Aziraphale’s first kiss!” one of the girls commented.

The nausea was becoming unbearable. So Anthony took a deep breath and stood up.

“Gotta go to the bathroom,” he said, and left.

Anthony had to look at himself in the mirror. He had to look into his own eyes. There was too much going on inside of his head and the pain in his chest was becoming too strong. He was getting agitated, and the pill was only partially to blame.

He washed his face, inhaled deeply, released the air through his nose, and tried to keep his mind clear of fear. It was just a game. He kissed him because of game. 

But what if he didn’t?

No. No, it was a game. It was barely a kiss. No tongue. His kiss was much better. It was special.

But why did he accept to kiss him? Why? He could’ve said no.

Anthony washed his face once again when his eyes began to get tearful. He couldn’t cry right now.

Water, towel. Red eyes. He put his glasses back on.

When he came out of the bathroom, the group had continued the game without him. Aziraphale’s eyes seemed to linger on Anthony as he joined the circle. Not by his side, though. Now he had learned.

It took three turns for the bottle to pick Anthony and Aziraphale.

“Truth or dare,” said Anthony.

Even the choice would be enough to fuel his fears. Or the look in his friend’s eyes, nearly begging for him to take it easy.

“Truth,” Aziraphale answered.

No chance to dare ask him for a kiss him, then. That was only for Oscar.

“Was that your first kiss?” he asked.

And that was for Oscar too.

Aziraphale swallowed. He had that look in his eyes that meant guilt.

“No,” the boy answered.

The room seemed to stop. Time seemed to stop. All eyes fell on a surprised Oscar.

Anthony had wondered before if he had the same effect on Oscar that Oscar had on him. Now he knew that maybe not as strongly, but definitely yes. It was easy to recognize the pain through those eyes, the exact moment when his heart sped up and the confusion of thoughts invaded his head. After only a brief moment, Oscar eyed Anthony. And Anthony returned the same look.

“So…” said one of the girls, trying to prevent a murder, “let’s spin the bottle again.”

“I’m done playing. You guys have fun. I’m so thirsty, where can I get some soda again? Oh, the other room. Right.”

Anthony stood up. He wasn’t thinking whether this was correct or not. Telling Oscar that he wasn’t the first surely broke the boy. But at the moment, Anthony’s feelings were so strong and loud that he had no hope of trying to distinguish if there was guilt or not in the mix. Would Aziraphale get mad at him? He had no idea.

He also didn’t care for what would happen after he left. He had this advantage. The kiss had already happened, and these teens wouldn’t go any further. He had gone further. He’d sleep with Aziraphale tonight and the next 8 nights. Oscar didn’t have much to go on with.

Not to mention that the Eavens hated Oscar and would be furious if they knew he was in town.

He might not have Aziraphale’s heart, but he had the advantage here. And by the look of Oscar’s face, he wouldn’t dare ask any other tricky questions during the game. Now he had the same fear Anthony had. Losing the love of his life.

* * *

They didn’t talk on the way back, though Aziraphale clearly wanted to. He opened his mouth a few times, but gave up on the last second. The tension was truly bothering Anthony, but he didn’t dare say anything either.

They arrived home after dinner. The house was quiet. Everyone had gone to sleep, apparently. So they went upstairs together, closed the door, and stood in front of each other, staring.

“Anthony,” Aziraphale started, rubbing one hand on the other, “are you still jealous of Oscar?”

He took off his glasses. His yellowish eyes were red and tearful. They had been like that the whole time. This question had been asked before. He said he didn’t know. Now he does.

“Yes,” he answered.

Aziraphale nodded.

“I don’t know what to tell you. You’re my best friend.”

It hurt. It truly did. And Anthony didn’t know why. It was beyond his ability of deciphering his own feelings. His whole life he had felt like going to heaven and back upon hearing this phrase. So why did he feel trapped in hell?

“You’re my best friend too.”

“Can I trust you?”

“Hm?”

Aziraphale walked to his bed and lifted the mattress. He pulled a brown envelope that was clearly holding too many sheets of paper.

“Can I trust you? For real?”

“Of course you can trust me.”

Aziraphale came closer and handed him the envelope.

“What is this?”

“The letters Oscar sent me. I want you to take them with you to London. So my family won’t find it. When they discover he’s in the town, they’ll search my room.”

“You want me to promise not to read them?”

“No. I wanna trust that you won’t stop being my best friend after you read them.”

Anthony’s hand clenched around the paper.

“Can I trust you?” he insisted.

“Of course.”

Anthony put the envelope in his backpack. As he did it, he noticed his hand was shaking.

They took quick showers, changed into their sleeping shorts, and lied down on their own beds. Anthony knew he wasn’t going to sleep. The last pill was taken less than 4 hours ago. The effect would keep him awake for at least another 3 hours if he was lucky. And the worst part would be the loneliness. Because after Aziraphale falls asleep, he’d be going to have lots of time to have a million messy thoughts and feelings.

He was nearly crying again when he heard Aziraphale moving on the bed. Not shifting or turning to another side. He was standing up. Anthony didn’t open his eyes to see what he was doing. So it was a surprise when he joined him on the bed.

“Can’t sleep?” asked Anthony.

There was no answer. At least, no words. Aziraphale lied on his stomach, partially over Anthony, and kissed him.

The kiss made all the thoughts vanish. Like a busy city suddenly going mute. It wasn’t needy or horny at all. Just peaceful. Warm. It didn’t taste like sugar, but like the mint from the toothpaste. And it had no reason to happen other than Aziraphale really wanted it.

He wanted it.

Anthony embraced his Angel with no hesitation, no fear of showing his feelings. This was honest from both sides. No excuses for their touches. No video to make it seem like two actors were the reason for their arousal.

“Angel,” Anthony whispered.

Aziraphale kissed his neck, making him hold his breath. His thigh moved between Anthony’s legs.

He wanted it. Him. Them.

They changed positions together, knowing exactly what to do and how to move in order to fit each other perfectly. Anthony laid on top of him. The light from the moon was the only thing illuminating them both, but it was enough to see how gorgeous his Angel was, lying like that, expecting to be caressed by Anthony.

Another long, wet kiss. Then many others on Aziraphale’s chest. On each one it was possible to feel the beating of his heart on the tip of his lips.

Anthony’s hand went to his sleeping shorts, finding him already hard. He held him through the fabric, very gently, allowing him the time to tell him to stop if he needed to. But his reaction was a short moan that he quickly suppressed, followed by a thrust of hips.

He really wanted it.

Anthony gave him another kiss the exact moment when he slid his hand inside his shorts to touch him directly, so the noise that came out of his mouth was muffled by Anthony’s.

It seemed like everything about Aziraphale was thick. His thighs, his body, his cock. Anthony couldn’t focus on the kiss anymore once he felt the other’s precum on the tip of his thumb. And it was hard not to feel like his own 14 years old self. The one that could easily have an orgasm from imagining exactly what he was doing for real right now.

Aziraphale’s face was like a dream coming true. His pleasure expression, lightened by the moon, was nothing short of a miracle.

He moved down, to Aziraphale’s surprise. The boy was biting his lower lip trying not to get vocal when Anthony looked up holding his cock close to his face.

“You have no idea how gorgeous you look, Angel.”

The moon wasn’t enough to show the red on his cheeks.

“Am I?”

Anthony smiled and kissed his thighs.

“I said that every inch of you is gorgeous.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Should I kiss every inch of you to prove?”

“You could.”

Anthony’s smile widened, but that was just a reflection of his heart smiling.

He kissed his inner thigh, his belly, down to his groin, up to his chest, his neck, and down again.

When he kissed the shaft of his cock, Aziraphale’s sweet smile vanished and his pleasure face return. He parted his legs more in response. Anthony licked a long line from the base to the head, and noticed the drop of precum forming again.

“A-Anthony,” the boy whispered, pulling the sheets.

That moan was exactly like the one he heard during the night. So perhaps he was making his dream come true too.

He took him entirely in his mouth. His nose was pressed against the boy’s pubis. Another snake-like characteristic.

“An—” he moaned again, this time moving his hand to his mouth.

He bobbed his head just a few times. Perhaps one or two minutes, at most, before he felt him getting even harder, warmer, and his hips getting unquiet, thrusting forward against his mouth.

“Antho-An-Hm-no, I’m..”

He arched his body, losing his breath. Anthony felt his mouth filling with his cum and continued sucking until the boy shivered and pulled away, too sensitive.

When their mouths met again, Anthony had already swallowed all of it. No mess on the sheets. No risk of being caught.

They cuddled together for as long as it took for Aziraphale to regain his breath. Once he did, the two started to kiss again. Anthony understood that the Angel was trying to reciprocate. But it came as a surprise when he licked his own finger and lowered his hand to Anthony’s arse.

“C-can I?” he asked.

He wished he hadn’t asked. His body instantly reacted to this possibility.

“Hm,” he nodded.

Aziraphale’s finger first circled his hole, caressing, worried about being gentle enough. Anthony’s nervousness, however, wasn’t that this was happening, but that this was happening in a house where any noise would be suspected. He hid his face against Aziraphale’s chest to muffle any sound. Apparently the Angel saw it as a permission to penetrate him, because that’s what he did.

The feeling quickly spread down his legs, as it always happens. It makes his cock ache and throb. He shifted in order to help Aziraphale find the right position, and once he felt the tip of his finger against his prostate, he had to grit his teeth not to make a sound.

“T-there.”

He was melting, probably. Against the warmth of Aziraphale’s body and the heat coming from his groin, Anthony was surrounded by flames. The finger moved in and out making him hum loudly against his skin. When he realized, his body was bouncing on his finger. His cock was leaving a dangerous wet patch on the sheets, so Aziraphale lowered his other hand to take him in his hand.

“N-no,” Anthony said, holding him by the wrist.

Even the slightest touch could trigger an orgasm right now. It would be worse for the sheets.

Aziraphale decided quickly what to do. He knelt up and made Anthony lie on his back with his knees bent and feet on the mattress. He sat there, in front of his arse, in a position that could easily turn into actual penetrative sex, but instead continued to be just his finger. Still, seeing Aziraphale there and having his prostate stimulated, Anthony lost hope of making this last much longer.

Now on his back, his cock leaked over his own stomach. He covered his eyes, not knowing what to do with himself while the pleasure was unbearable. Had it been his cock being touched, he’d have come already. But this was better. This was building up. This was driving him to the edges with each movement.

He pulled the sheets so hard that they came off of the mattress. His hole was stretched further. A second finger. Two more thrusts and he was spurting out all over his chest and chin. The orgasm took his lower abdomen, his thighs, his cock. The scream was stuck in his throat.

Apparently he closed his eyes at some point, but he only noticed it when he had to open them. Aziraphale was licking the cum from his body up until the bit that reached his chin.

They kissed again. And again. And as many times as it was needed for them to fall asleep. This time there were no dreams. They weren’t needed.

* * *

Unfortunately, the morning came. When the first rays of the sun reached the two, they forced themselves awake. Aziraphale moved to his own bed, in case Gabriel wanted to check them before breakfast.

He didn’t. But he wasn’t at the table either.

“He said he’ll eat later,” Mrs. Eaven said.

Anthony found it very weird. He had a bad feeling about this. And by the look on Aziraphale’s face, he thought the same.

Breakfast ended. No sign of Gabriel. They left the house to walk around the property, smiling all the time. Anthony had a special envelope in his pocket. The letter of confession. It was the best moment, of course. The night before proved that he had Aziraphale’s heart, and they would love each other very much. No other moment would be better than this. The next time Aziraphale sees Oscar, he’ll be his boyfriend.

“Aziraphale,” he called. They were almost reaching the old tree. “There’s something… something I need to give you.”

He pulled the letter from his pocket. Aziraphale’s eyes dropped to the envelope, but were diverted to the sound of Mrs. Eaven calling.

And she was angry.

“Aziraphale!” she screamed.

_ Did Gabriel hear anything? Did he spy on them through the door? Did he see them before they woke up? _

Anthony wanted to take Aziraphale’s hand and run. He wasn’t sure where, but that was the only thing his mind was telling him to do.

“Gabriel?” Anthony asked Aziraphale.

To his shock, the angel’s face was taken by terror. His lips, his hands, his legs were shaking in panic.

He couldn’t run. He couldn’t avoid this. He had to help Aziraphale.

“Come here right now!” his mother yelled.

They went.

And as he walked, hearing Aziraphale’s teeth chattering of fear, Anthony couldn’t help but think that this is not what a mom should cause to her son.

When they entered the living room, Gabriel was standing behind the couch. Mrs. Eaven had a brown envelope in one hand a dozens of letters in the other. Her eyes were full of tears, but also burning in anger and disgust.

_ Oscar’s letters. _

The rat had opened Anthony’s backpack. The son of a bitch had opened not Aziraphale’s things, but  _ his _ things.

“Do you know how many times you’d go to hell from just one of these letters, Aziraphale?”

“Mum, I…”

“Shut up! You will not say a word in this house, sodomite. This house belongs to God, and God is very angry with you. I pray that He forgives you someday, but I shall not.”

Anthony couldn’t believe those words. Where was the love of a mother? How could she bare her teeth like that while speaking to her own son? What God is this that she speaks of?

“Why don’t you ask Gabriel where he found those letters?” Anthony spat.

“You knew this, don’t you?”

“Ask him! Where were they? Why won’t this cunt say where he had to look for those letters!?”

Gabriel was eyeing Anthony with so much hatred that it was impossible not to say that he was Mrs. Eaven’s son.

“Does it matter?” Gabriel retorted.

“Of course it fucking matters you fucker. You found them in my backpack. They are mine, not Aziraphale’s. What, you think Aziraphale would do this? Don’t be ridiculous. He was disgusted when I asked Oscar’s address in France.”

Aziraphale’s eyes were locked on Anthony. Blue as they could ever get.

“You don’t even know Oscar, you’re being ridiculous,” accused Gabriel.

“Oh, don’t I? Long dark hair, soft skin, green eyes. Writes me beautiful poems. I’ve only seen him twice thanks to your stupid hatred of him. But it was more than enough to fall in love. You want proof? Ask my parents. They know I’m a  _ sodomite _ . Because I don’t need to hide it. Because it’s normal. And you know what else? I wear skirts, and I bet I look a lot better in them than you, Mrs. Eaven. Your son is not gay. I am.”

Mrs. Eaven’s look changed. She wasn’t angry anymore. She was just disgusted, repulsed. Her upper lip was twitching as if she was looking at a giant dead cockroach.

He should be more shocked when her hand slapped his cheek. He wasn’t. He saw it coming.

“Take your things and leave. And  _ never _ come back. I don’t wanna see you ever again. And if you dare speak to Aziraphale, I don’t answer for myself.”

Anthony pulled all the papers and the envelope from her hand and ran upstairs. Aziraphale tried to follow, but Mrs. Eaven held him.

He cried and screamed while throwing his clothes in his bag. The anger made him punch the mattress several times. Maybe some things were left behind, but he couldn’t care less. Mrs. Eaven would likely burn them later.

When he took his laptop to pack it as well, he decided against it.

Instead, he put the laptop deep into Aziraphale’s socks drawer. That could end up being their only way of communicating. As long as his mother doesn’t find out. In that case, the laptop would likely be tossed in the lake.

It was a risk he was willing to take.

He came downstairs to find Aziraphale crying while being held by his mother. Gabriel looked victorious.

“I swear I’ll punch you someday, dick,” Anthony threatened, passing by the older brother.

In the in the train back home, Anthony cried. He cried and cried, not caring for anyone seeing him. The confession letter was still in his pocket. And now more than ever he knew that too much love could definitely kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oi, sorry.  
We'll start a new phase of this fic (a final one, don't worry). Next chapter is Aziraphale's POV.


	16. Love lost and found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's Aziraphale's POV yall. Also: this fic has a happy ending. This is not a spoiler, this is a promise. I do not write sad stuff only for the angst. All angst shall be rewarded with double happiness. I don't make the rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little disclaimer: I tried my best to do my research on how the education system works in the UK (because it couldn't be more different from the one in my country) but in the end I'm still paranoid I'm gonna sound stupid with these references. So I'm sorry in advance. It's all very, very, very confusing to me.
> 
> I had written chapters 16 and 17 right after the last chapter because it was just my favorite. But I wrote it on a rush and after you people showed so much love, I just had to erase all that and start something with more care and time. I hope I'll be able to draw something else too.

When Aziraphale woke up, he felt like he hadn’t slept at all. Not because he was tired - in fact, it was as if yesterday hadn’t ended and he’d still have to go to bed. Because when the chickens began to make noise in the late hours of dawn, the thoughts that were in his head before bed were still there, like not one second had passed.

There were things he had to do. Things he was scared of, but were very necessary.

He sat up and looked at the second bed in his room. Obviously it would be removed today. His mother would consider that it wouldn’t be necessary ever again.

But before he could dedicate his mind to this specific problem, he had to solve something else.

Aziraphale put on his usual clothes. Slowly, taking his time, rehearsing a whole conversation in his head. Trying to keep the second problem - regarding Anthony - away for a moment. But it became quite hard when he opened his socks drawer and found the boy’s laptop in there.

His first thought was that Anthony had forgotten it and would get in trouble for this. But he quickly understood that it was intentional. Not once Anthony had left the laptop in his drawer. He left it there for them to communicate.

“Not now,” Aziraphale whispered to himself.

He heard his mother calling for breakfast downstairs and jumped, startled. Even her usual voice was giving him shivers. A rush of adrenaline made his heart beat faster. What if she finds the laptop?

“ _ No, no, no, no.” _

He looked around the room, suddenly desperate to find a better spot to hide it. His throat was dry with the possibility of being caught. Even the open window made him fear being seen by - who knows - Gabriel going out or feeding the cattle.

“What do I do, what do I do?”

There was no spot in his room that his mother wouldn’t look at. Sooner or later. So the thing couldn’t stay there, nor anywhere in the house. Perhaps he could ask Newt to keep it for now. Later, when his classes start again, he can leave it in the locker.

He had to take it with him, then.

It was risky, though. Walk through the house, passing by his mother, with Anthony’s laptop in his bag, could mean another huge argument.

His heart felt heavy.

“I’ll say that he forgot it and I’m gonna throw it away if she catches me,” Aziraphale concluded, not entirely confident that he’d be able to lie if she starts screaming.

But it was the best he could do right now.

He went downstairs to have breakfast without the laptop. Gabriel was at the table with the newspaper. His mother was cooking eggs, like a perfect suburban mother, smiling happily. His father, to his surprise, was there too, having some strong coffee and looking like he hadn’t slept in five days. Lately he had spent his days sleeping and the nights awake, working - or drinking, more oftenly. So it was a rare sight to see him at the breakfast table.

“Morning,” said Aziraphale, taking his sit.

“Gabriel, my dear,” said Mrs. Eaven, “can you put that down? The newspaper is dirty, and you’re at the table.”

Gabriel obeyed like a well trained dog, saying nothing. She put his plate in front of him, then served Aziraphale and his father.

What a happy family.

Aziraphale ate in silence. Gabriel and his mother were the only ones speaking. They chatted about their closest neighbor, a widow who was intending to marry again, and condemning her for such. It was a very uplifting subject for the two.

Aziraphale kept his eyes down on the food for most of the time. When he looked up, his father was staring at him with a short smile. Upon being seen, the man started mimicking the way his wife spoke, exaggerating her mannerisms.

He laughed silently and returned the joke by imitating Gabriel with a straight stance.

They both giggled and continued to eat. And that was likely the best moment of the whole day. Perhaps his father noticed how sad he was. Perhaps his mother told him about the discussion of the previous day. He couldn’t be sure. But that short silent exchange of jokes made Aziraphale feel a lot better. Well, it made him feel loved in his family.

“Mum, I’m gonna see Newt today,” announced.

“Sure thing, darling. Did you tell him you’ll be visiting him?” she asked.

“No, I’m gonna call when I finish breakfast.”

“I’ll call him for you, don’t worry.”

Aziraphale looked up, confused. Why would she want to call him?

Oh, okay. To make sure he actually goes to Newt’s house, not anywhere else.

She went to the nearest phone, still wearing her cooking apron.

“Good morning, Mr. Pulsifer. It’s Anna. How are you doing? Oh, we’re doing great. So, Aziraphale told me he wants to visit your son today. You know, last days of vacations. Can you call me when he arrives? Also when he leaves, please. Yes, thank you. You can never be too careful these days. Yes, have a nice day, Mr. Pulsifer. God bless you.”

Aziraphale’s chest seemed to crush around his heart.

He took his bag - with Anthony’s laptop - and quickly left the house while his mother and his brother were still making gossip in the kitchen. Once he was on the road to get to the city, he felt like he could finally breathe.

His intention was not to go to Newt’s, but now it would be suicide not to. So he made sure to get there as quickly as possible and to remind Mr. Pulsifer to call his mother and let her know that he had arrived.

“Where’s Crowley?” Newt asked, taking Aziraphale up to his room. “I thought he’d come with you.”

“That’s… sort of why I’m here. I need a favour. Two favours, actually.”

Newt sat on his bed, confused.

“Yes?”

“I need Oscar to come here so I can talk to him. I also need your parents not to tell my mother about it. And… now that I think of it, three favours.” He opened his bag, removed the laptop and left it on Newt’s desk. “This is Anthony’s. I need to leave it here this week.”

Newt just got more and more confuse.

“Sure. What is happening, Aziraphale? You’re pale. And clearly panicking.”

Aziraphale swallowed, not sure if he’d be able to explain everything without breaking. Newt deserved it, though.

“My mother found letters that Oscar sent me. I’ve always been afraid that she’d find them someday. We never wrote each other’s name so she couldn’t prove anything. But yesterday I gave the letters to Anthony.”

Newt frowned.

“Why?”

“Because…” he held his breath. “Look, I’ll tell you later, yes? The thing is, Gabriel found the letters in his backpack and gave them to my mother. She was really angry. Called me terrible things. Said she wouldn’t…” he gritted his teeth. His throat ached. “Said she wouldn’t forgive me. Then Anthony claimed that the letters were his. From Oscar to him. He said he was in love with Oscar and I had nothing to do with it. So my mother prohibited him to see me. He’s back in London now. And he left the laptop so we could communicate. But I can’t leave the laptop at home.”

Newt’s expression was changing along the story. From confusion to understanding and finally pity.

“No problem. I’ll keep it here. So why do you need Oscar?”

“I need to sort things out with him.”

“Sort things out?”

“Can I just call him over, please? I wanna get over with it.”

Of course Aziraphale knew that all his friends thought he was in love with Oscar. A forbidden love for a young poet that lived in France. The story was romantic and surely made the female side of his circle of friends love such couple. But it wasn’t true at all. And explaining this to Newt would take too much time.

So he called Oscar while Newt was telling his parents that they shouldn’t tell Mrs. Eaven about Oscar being in the house. And the boy, of course, accepted the invitation, though he asked if Crowley would be there.

While he waited, Newt returned to the room, not wanting to leave Aziraphale alone for too long.

“You’re a mess, Aziraphale. Do you wanna eat something, drink something?”

He was tapping the floor with his foot, his eyes lost in some corner of the room.

“You know what makes it slightly better?” Aziraphale said, ignoring the question. “Most adults are mean, but our friends are nice.”

“About being gay?”

“About anything. I’ve never been afraid… I mean, people did call me several things at school, but I was never afraid because we have plenty of friends that never cared about this. I hope that, in the future, we can find more nice adults than mean ones.”

“But this is the countryside, Aziraphale. It’s different in London. People are more accepting there,” Newt told him.

Newt was going to do sixth form in London, starting next week. Aziraphale nearly forgot it. He had studied with Newt since they were children. It’d be weird school without him.

“You can tell me about it then. When you come visit.”

The doorbell rang. They heard Mr. Pulsifer opening it and greeting Oscar, then telling him that  _ the boys are upstairs. _

So they waited.

Aziraphale never knew that seeing Oscar could make him this uneasy. But it was all because of the talk they’d have. The chances of both not crying were close to zero. In fact, Aziraphale’s eyes were already watering.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Newt quickly said, rushing out of the room.

“You wanted to talk?” Oscar began, hands in his pockets.

There was tension in his features. Fear, even. And a bit of resentment.

“Yes. It’s… hm.. very important.”

Oscar pulled a chair and sat in front of Aziraphale.

“I kinda know what you’re going to say,” Oscar told him.

“You know what I’m gonna talk about, but you don’t know what I’m going to say.”

Oscar sighed, holding one hand on the other.

“Please save me from the  _ you’re one of my best friends and I really love you but not like that, _ ” Oscar spoke, not looking at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale looked down to his legs, beginning to cry.

“When we started with the letters, you were still dating someone. I was curious about kissing. About the things you did. I wasn’t…” he stopped for a moment, considering the best way to continue, “I couldn’t do the same. I saw all my friends doing these things. You were the person I trusted to ask. Then you broke up. And… I knew that there was some limit to how far we could go with those letters before some misunderstanding, but when I realized where the limit was, it had passed long ago.”

“So that’s when you realized that I truly meant what I said? That it wasn’t just…”

Aziraphale nodded. He remembered feeling stupid and guilty when all his friends began considering that they were boyfriends and how everyone told him how obvious Oscar’s feelings were. He denied at the time, because admitting it would mean that the letters he wrote were being understood by Oscar as love letters. It would be admitting that he was misleading Oscar. That he was a terrible person and that he’d make him suffer.

But denying something doesn’t make it any less real. Oscar was suffering right now.

“You never felt anything for me?” Oscar asked, after a long silence.

What could he say? Did he ever feel that kind of love for Oscar? In some level, he did. But when measured side to side with Anthony, it felt like it never existed. If he had never met Anthony, however, Oscar would probably be his definition of romantic love.

“I’d be lying if I said no. But I would be lying if I said yes too.”

“Then why did you kiss me at the party? You could’ve denied it.”

“I was scared of what you’d make me say. I thought you’d ask me if I love you.”

Oscar looked up for the first time. Their eyes met. Aziraphale saw that he was right. Oscar would definitely choose that question.

“Why are you telling me all this now? Where’s Crowley?”

“I gave him your letters. So he’d take them to London. I feared that my mother would find out that you’re here and she’d search my room for evidence that we’ve seen each other. But she found the letters in his backpack. Anthony claimed they were his. That he’s the one in love with you.”

Oscar didn’t need to know the rest. He knew that Aziraphale’s mother would’ve prohibited Anthony from seeing him.

“That was nice of him,” Oscar commented.

“I don’t know if I’d have a home anymore if he hadn’t,” Aziraphale agreed, with his tears falling on his lap.

“You could always go to mine, honestly. My parents would take you in anytime.”

Aziraphale looked up, surprised.

“Aren’t you mad?”

Oscar’s eyes were full of tears and his voice was choked, but he didn’t look mad. Only terribly sad.

“I know who I fell in love with. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

Aziraphale couldn’t handle that. He was weak for any demonstration of love today. So he actually began to cry, sobbing, trying to wipe his eyes. It only became harder to control the tears when Oscar sat by his side to embrace him.

“It’s gonna be fine, Aziraphale. You won’t need them forever. You’ll be free someday.”

He didn’t say anything. The boy only leaned on Oscar’s chest and cried there with him for a while. That’s all he needed at the moment.

* * *

The second problem was a lot harder to solve, and that day Aziraphale didn’t have any emotional health left to deal with it. So he didn’t use the laptop, nor tried to speak to Anthony. He merely went home, took a shower, and lied down.

The bed still had a bit of Anthony’s smell. The other bed, with his pillow, had only his smell. So Aziraphale moved to the the other. He stayed there, quiet, until someone knocked on the door.

Since the person didn’t enter right after, it could only be his father.

“Come in,” he yelled.

The door opened. What a decayed figure his father had become. Once a strong man, now he was skinny, with dark circles around his eyes, lowered shoulders, and tousled hair. Still a figure he liked to see more than his mother.

He entered and closed the door, then approached Aziraphale. He sat on Aziraphale’s bed, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, supporting the rest of his tired body.

“How are you feeling, Aziraphale?”

“I’m okay. How are you?”

He shrugged. It was obvious.

“Did my mother tell you what happened?”

“She did. She said I had to participate in your life more, become a stronger figure, give you a male example, so you won’t turn out in sin like your friends.”

Aziraphale swallowed and nodded. So now things were his father’s fault too. And this is why he was at the table for breakfast today.

“You don’t have to do anything, dad.”

“I also think so. I don’t think you’d live in sin anyway.”

Aziraphale gave him a short, nervous and hesitant smile. He already does live in sin. The bed where he was sitting right now was a witness.

“Well,” his father continued, “not in the definition of sin I believe in, at least. Your mother thinks differently, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Son…” he began, his voice weak, but making an effort, “I’ve known you’re gay since you were… what? Thirteen? You’ll have to excuse me, I don’t keep track of years that well anymore.”

Aziraphale’s whole body felt cold. The blood left his face. He coughed, because his throat literally tightened.

“I’m not, I don’t… what are you talking about? I’m… the letters were to Anthony…”

“Son, please. I’m not your mother. Don’t think of me like that. Nothing makes me sadder.”

Aziraphale went quiet.

“I’ve always known, and I’ve always worried for you. I’m sorry I said nothing, I should have. I’ve delayed this conversation for too long. You’re 16 now, aren’t you? I’m the worst father anyone could have, but at least I’ve managed to tell you this before you leave the house thinking I hate you for what you are. I wouldn’t be able to live with this thought. I don’t think being gay is a sin. I don’t think God hates you. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. And I’m sorry that your mother does.”

Aziraphale’s tears began to fall halfway through his words. Now they were abundant, continuous, and managed to get even the collar of his shirt wet. But for once, they weren’t of sadness, but love. He had cried too much today already. He tried to speak, but he was sobbing and having trouble to even breathe while crying.

“You love Anthony, don’t you?” his father asked.

He nodded. And there were no words to describe the feeling he had while telling his father that he loved Anthony. Being able to admit it openly to someone that wasn’t his friend. Someone in his family.

“Your mother had this idea a few days ago. You have a friend that is going to London, right? She was considering sending you there too. Something about his parents saying that you’ll never get in a good University studying here.”

Aziraphale looked up, surprised.

“She wouldn’t…. she wouldn’t let me go...anymore,” he said, sobbing.

“She would let you live with Gabriel if she thought there was a higher risk for you here.”

“Higher...risk?”

“There’s that other friend of yours. The one that wrote you the letters. Is he still in France?”

“N-no. He...he came to… he came visit me.”

“There you go. I can tell her that you told me about him being here and trying to contact you. And I can suggest sending you to London with Gabriel. What do you think?”

“Gabriel would... watch over me even… even more than her.”

“He surely would. While he’s not in the University.”

Aziraphale’s tears slowly stopped. He looked at his father and couldn’t believe how much he missed him. How much time he lost of being with him. Yes, his father was a great man. Always had been.

“Do you think it would work?”

“You can try. In any case, you stay away from her.”

“And from you.”

“I’m to blame on that. I’ve been away from you. And you’re the only one who’s tried to help me. I need to thank you somehow.”

“You don’t need to thank me for anything, dad. You’re the best father anyone could have.”

It was his turn to get wet eyes. He pressed his lips in a thin line, nodded once, and when he looked up again, he was already crying.

They were very much alike. The same way Gabriel was a lot like their mother. They were soft for love demonstrations and declarations. Their current emotional state also helped those tears to roll.

“Can I ask you something, son?”

“Anything.”

“I keep a gun in a safe,” he told him, surely thinking Aziraphale didn’t know. “Can you take it with you? Without the bullets, of course. I don’t wanna risk your life. I know it’s a lot to ask. It’s dangerous. But the safe is not very big and it’s portable. So you can put the whole thing it in your luggage. If you do go to London, of course.”

A lot of things were being said here. The most important of them was that the suicide thoughts were still very present in his father’s head, but he truly wanted to power through this suffering and not listen to these thoughts. If he wanted his younger son to carry a gun in his luggage and keep it with him, then surely he had gone through a lot of guilty phases before finally being able to ask. He knew it wasn’t a mature or responsible thing to do. But if the danger of keeping it at home was higher than trusting it to Aziraphale, then Aziraphale couldn’t say no. The risk was too high. The suicide ideas were getting stronger.

But he was proud of him for asking. It meant he wanted to keep trying, despite those dark thoughts.

“I will. If I go to London, I’ll take the safe with the gun. I’ll feel better about leaving if I take it with me.”

It’s not like he couldn’t find other ways to kill himself. But giving away the gun was also a symbol of his effort to try and get better. It was… a promise maybe.

When the thoughts return, perhaps he could remember that he asked his 16 year old son to carry and keep a gun with him, and how this son did so hoping he’d stay alive, and further attempts could continue to be avoided.

“Thank you, Aziraphale.”

He stood up and hugged his father. They both cried, relieved that they had found one another again, and were trusting their lives, their sadness, their love and secrets on the other. It was exactly what parents should be like. And in that hug, Aziraphale felt safe in this family again. And so did his father.

* * *

The week went by and he heard nothing about going to London. His mother didn’t bring up the topic. If not by his father, he wouldn't know that the conversation happened.

Newt had already left to London the day before. So Aziraphale had to go and take the laptop. But it was just for one day. He’d take it to school today.That morning was his first day of sixth form, enrolled in the same school he had attended his whole life. So the hope he had disappeared.

Breakfast was at the table when he came down with his backpack, feeling destroyed that his plans of going to London didn’t work out.

Gabriel was there - which was weird. He was supposed to leave last night. His classes start today.

“Good morning, my dear,” said his mother, serving him his plate. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, yes. Thank you, mum.” After taking the plate, he turned to Gabriel. “Why are you still here?”

“Oh, we need to talk,” said his mother, not giving Gabriel the chance to answer. She sat down on the chair next to Aziraphale. “I’ve been thinking a lot about you, your future. And everything that happened. And I worry a lot about my children. Mrs and Mr Pulsifer told me about their son going to London for a sixth form, and I couldn’t deny that surely the schools there are a lot better than here. Still, I didn’t want to lose both my boys. And of course I worry about that... “ she stopped, making a disgusted expression, “that other boy. But I’m sure he won’t approach you knowing that Gabriel is there with you. Your father told me that you learned your lesson and even rejected seeing Oscar. He’s in town, isn’t he? The audacity of trying to see you! But I’m proud of you for putting him in his place. You’ve done right. But I don’t think he’ll give up. These sinners never do. So London and being with Gabriel shall prove a better environment for you.”

Aziraphale had to control all his impulses. The impulse to scream in happiness, the impulse to smile too much, the impulse of giving away that he already knew about these conversation, and the impulse to run to his father’s room and thank him for what he said.

So he just nodded.

“You think it’s better? I don’t know London, I’m not sure if I can adapt there. I like it here.”

“I’m sure you’ll fit in just well, my darling. Gabriel will help you with everything.”

“And the school…?”

“I’ve had a lot of trouble to find one that was still accepting enrollments. But a bit of extra money did the trick. I’ve already cancelled your enrollment here. So why don’t you go pack your things to go?”

Aziraphale put on a surprised face, mixed with a bit of hesitance. Inside, he was jumping and screaming.

“Sure. If you think it’s better for me.”

Aziraphale finished his breakfast and went upstairs very calmly. When he closed his bedroom door, the boy finally smiled widely and couldn’t put down that smile while packing everything, including the laptop.

He came downstairs - again looking fearful - and asked for a moment to go say goodbye to his father.

“He’s sleeping,” told his mother.

“I’ll wake him up.”

“In the office.”

He opened the door to find him sleeping on a couch. Silently, he closed the door again, after dragging his luggage inside.

“Dad,” he whispered.

The man blinked himself awake.

“I’m going to London.”

A smile began to appear on his sleepy face. He sat up, stretched and yawned.

“I was beginning to think she’d decide against it.”

“Me too. I… I came to say goodbye and to… take the safe.”

The man nodded and stood up. The safe was between his architecture books. Aziraphale watched him pressing the combination of numbers in silence. It was impossible not to notice that the last four numbers - the first four he couldn’t quite catch - was his birthday year. So the rest was likely day and month.

He choose those numbers so he would be obliged to remember Aziraphale every time he opened it.

He took the gun, unloaded it and removed the bullets. Then mounted it again and put it back in the safe. The bullets were stored in the pack with the others. The safe was closed and handed to Aziraphale.

He didn’t tell him the code of the safe, and obviously thought Aziraphale hadn’t seen it. It made sense. Why would his son ever need to open it?

He put the thing in his bag, along with all the clothes, and hugged his father goodbye.

“Be here when I come to visit,” Aziraphale said. “I love you dad.”

“I love you, son. I hope Anthony can return someday. And not just as your friend.”

Aziraphale blushed, but thanked him.

The hardest part - or rather, the only bad part - of leaving that day was not having time to spend more days with his father now that they had gotten closer to each other. But nothing would change this closeness. He’d be there when he comes back, he knew.

Now Aziraphale was on the road to London. To the place where Anthony was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I see you relieved that Aziraphale is going to London but have you stopped to think about Newt getting closer to Anathema? You didn't, did you? hA!
> 
> Next chapter next week. No more long pauses. These two need to get together soon.  
We needed to have Aziraphale's POV when he finds out about the drugs, right?


	17. Emails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important notes:  
Gabriel is being a dick for a reason. We'll get there. Unlike canon Gabriel, this Gabriel is human and therefore he wasn't born a dick, he became a dick, matured into a dick, and there's a reason for the extra dickness.
> 
> Also, they're not in the same school because I thought it would be too god ex machina.
> 
> :)

Aziraphale found everything very loud in London. The streets, the cars, the people. Everything was very busy and noisy. It didn’t help that they were living in central London, in a tiny apartment that - as Gabriel explained - was very, very expensive.

How could an apartment so small be so expensive was out of his comprehension.

The new school was very different too. He found a mix of all sorts of teens there. Where he lived, people were part of a smaller community. So everyone went to the same church, the same markets, the same shops, ate in the same restaurants. In London, as he noticed, no one looked the same.

Some teens had colored hair, others had lots of piercings, others wore only black - or that’s what he imagined, judging by their looks, although he’d only see them in uniform. It was easier to understand Anthony as a whole when put in the context of London.

This meant that even feeling like an outcast at first, eventually he found people more like himself. The school had a literature club full of people crazy for books like Aziraphale. It also helped that Newt was going to the same school, but the other was in a different class, so they’d only meet during the breaks.

Because the school period was the same period of Gabriel’s Uni, he didn’t have much time alone. So the laptop was never used. He had no idea that the school had wifi - schools, at least the one he’s been to, don’t have wifi.

He figured that out in the second week, through a weird conversation with a weird guy.

He wasn’t in the library for interest in literature, like the rest of the literature group. He looked like he had never been to a library, in fact. If Aziraphale had to guess, he’d bet on this guy being a bully. So when he approached him, Aziraphale tried to smile - his only defense mechanism against mean people.

“Oi, dude.”

“Hey.  _ Dude,” _ he answered, the word sounding alien in his mouth.

The rest of the literature group initially stopped to follow the conversation, but quickly diverted their interest back to choosing the next book they’d read.

“Are you gay?”

Aziraphale blinked a thousand times, smile frozen on his face.

“What?”

“You gay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you shag dudes?”

His heart was jumping out of his mouth. He could only think that he’d get beaten today. His eyes strayed to the exit and to the rest of the library, in case he had to run. He hated running, though.

“Why are you asking me this?”

“Because I know a guy who’d fall head over heels for a dude like you.”

His blood pressure dropped, the air finally left his lungs and he could breathe again. Now the beating of his heart could be felt on his temples.

“Hm, yes, I’m gay. But I’m afraid I’m not interested.”

“You’ve got a boyfriend?” one of the teens of the literature group asked, proving that not everyone had diverted their attention.

“No, no. I don’t… I don’t have a boyfriend. That is not the case.”

“Then why don’t you just talk to him?” asked the bully-face-though-nice-guy.

“Because I’m… interested in someone.”

“Is this someone interested in you?”

“Hard to say,” Aziraphale answered, starting to believe he was in a weird dream were strangers ask him about his romantic life. “In any case, I appreciate knowing about your friend with a very specific taste in men.”

“No problem,” said the guy, turning to leave.

“What is your name, by the way?”

“Hastur,” he answered.

“I’m Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale watched the guy leaving, still weirded out by the conversation, and also because he did remember hearing this weird name before. He took a deep breath and sat down. His legs hadn’t recovered from the fear he went through.

“It’s nice of you to be loyal though you don’t know if this guy likes you back,” said the boy who paid attention to what had happened.

“I’m not sure if I’m being nice. I just… you know, don’t wanna risk being caught in a relationship. Make someone suffer. Because if Anthony returns my feelings someday, I’d just…” he snapped his fingers.

“I understand. Who’s this Anthony?”

“Oh, he’s my best friend since we were five. He always went to my home in the countryside during summer. But my family is very religious and… I’ll just sum up as they forbid him to be near me. This was… like three weeks ago or so.”

The boy nodded, resting his chin on his hand, elbows on the table.

“Have you spoken to him since?”

“No, he… he left me a laptop so we could communicate, but my older brother keeps an eye on me. I can’t use the laptop at home.”

“Why don’t you use it here?”

“I’d need the internet.”

The boy frowned and pointed at a girl on the other end of the table, reading reviews of the three books they had to choose from, on a laptop.

“You have internet here?”

“Of course, mate.”

* * *

The very same boy, named Uri, accepted to help Aziraphale with the technology. He had never possessed a phone, nor he had used a computer if not at school. And he was terrible with it.

“It’s a nice laptop,” Uri commented, sat in front of it as it was turned on. “So, how do you intend on contacting him?” Uri asked.

“I have no idea. How could I use his own laptop to reach him? I don’t know how these things work.”

Uri stopped for a moment, thinking.

“If he leaves his passwords on auto-fill, we can log in his email and send himself something.”

“Auto-fill?”

“It means you don’t need to remember your password because the computer stores it for you. It could be logged in automatically,” Uri explained, opening the internet browser. “We just need to see which email he uses.”

“He’d definitely save those passwords. His memory is not very good.”

Uri opened the internet history to find any email host that Anthony could’ve accessed recently. Aziraphale recognized the porn sites right away.

“He’s quite into porn, isn’t he?”

“Oh, no, that was for me.”

The boy turned his face to look at him with a funny frown.

“It’s a long story.”

“Not sure if I want to hear it,” Uri joked, turning back to the laptop.

Eventually he found an email site. Clicking on it, he was not surprised to find it already logged.

However, the emails on the inbox were all from Anthony to himself.

**Send me emails through here and I’ll see - sent 24 days ago**

_ Angel, _

_ I truly hope you find out about this email. This is how we’ll be able to communicate. I hope you’re doing okay. Don’t mind your mother, you’re not a bad person. You’re a wonderful person. In fact, you’re a lot better than her. _

_ My mother is furious. She wanted to sue your mother for aggression and for everything she said. I convinced her not to. _

_ How are you? _

_ Yours, _

_ Anthony _

“Your mother hit this Anthony?” Uri asked, shocked.

“She slapped his face, yes. It was… not something I wanna talk about.”

It still hurt. The fear he felt was still resonating in his chest. The details would only bring the pain back to surface.

“Sorry. Uh.. he calls you angel? And you don’t know if he likes you back?”

“Oh, no, that’s… it’s a funny story, actually. We met when we were 5. He couldn’t pronounce my name and my house is full of religious paintings. He thought I was an angel back then, because I looked like the cherubs. So he kept calling me angel forever. I don’t remember him calling me anything else.”

“Can you stop? I’m getting a toothache from the sweetness.”

**Are you okay? - sent 20 days ago**

_ Angel, _

_ I’m worried about you. I’ve noticed you haven’t opened the email. If you open this one, please answer. _

_ Yours, _

_ Anthony _

“He looks eager to see you,” Uri commented.

“We always did. He’s worried, I should answer immediately.”

“He’s very worried, indeed. He stopped writing the emails and kept sending just the titles.”

**Trying again - sent 18 days ago [no content]**

**I’m worried, please talk to me - sent 17 days ago [no content]**

**Aziraphale - sent 16 days ago [no content]**

**Hey - sent 15 days ago [no content]**

**Are you mad? - sent 14 days ago [no content]**

**Are you mad with me? - sent 13 days ago [no content]**

**If you’re mad with me please read this - sent 14 days ago**

_ Angel, _

_ I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what you’re thinking. Maybe you hate me now. Maybe you don’t. Maybe you haven’t found out about this email. Maybe you haven’t even found the laptop. I don’t know. And maybe I’ve ruined your life and the love of your mother. All I wanted to say is: I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Ever. Not for one second. But I always fuck things up. You know it. I always do. I’ve been fucking things up a lot recently. _

_ So I’m sorry. Just tell me if you’re mad at me. _

_ Anthony _

  
  


**I need to tell you something - sent 6 days ago [no content]**

**I’m sorry - sent 6 days ago [no content]**

**Please talk to me. - sent 5 days ago [no content]**

**I’ve read all of Oscar’s letters - sent 4 days ago [no content]**

There were no other emails. Aziraphale was feeling both guilty and kinda enamored with Anthony’s concern. Part of him knew that this was just how he was. Impatient, desperate, worried, with thoughts going a thousand miles per hour, and a great tendency to jump to conclusions. But he couldn’t help being sorry for not trying harder to answer him sooner.

“Go ahead, mate. Make this boy breathe again, before he passes out,” joked Uri, leaving the chair.

Aziraphale sat down and took a deep breath, looking at the keyboard. What would he say? He couldn’t make promises of seeing him. Gabriel was there all the time. He takes him to school everyday and comes pick him up even before he’s released. Not to mention that he saw his brother talking to one of his teachers in the second day of school, likely asking her to tell him if his brother misses a class. He knew nothing of London and every time he asked Gabriel to go somewhere, he’d either say no or go with him.

Truth was, he was under strong surveillance. He even feared that Anthony, being impulsive as he was, would eventually appear at his door or at the school. If that happens, he’d be sent back to the farm the next day and who knows when he’d be allowed out of the house.

So perhaps, at least for now, it was better not to let Anthony know he was in London. For their own good.

**Sorry about the delayed reply - sent 3 minutes ago**

_ Anthony, _

_ I couldn’t use the laptop since the day you left. My mother is watching me all the time. I left it with Newt and then in the locker at school. I’m not mad at you, my dear, I would never be. You saved me. You didn’t ruin anything. I’m sorry about how my mother treated you. _

_ How are you? Are you back in school? Doing a sixth form? _

_ I’m gonna apply for my A levels next year. I don’t think I’ll be approved, but I wanna try it. Uni seems like a better place to be. Do you have any plans? _

_ About the letters… do you wanna say anything about them? _

_ Yours, _

_ Aziraphale. _

Uri was away, looking at the books in the Romance corridor, searching for Pride and Prejudice, the title that the Literature club chose yesterday. Aziraphale would call him to help him close everything, but before he could do so, an answer popped in the inbox.

**HEY - sent now**

_ Angel, _

_ I can’t believe you’ve replied. I’m so relieved. I swear I thought I was dreaming when I got the notification. I was super worried about you. But I understand that your mother would be watching over you. My fear was that you’d never find this email. _

_ You can ask Newt to create an email for you if you want. It’s really easy. Or you can use this one too. But you’ll eventually need one if you’re going to Uni. _

_ I’m sure you can get your A levels on whatever you want next year, Angel. You’re the smartest guy I know. _

_ As for me… yes, I’m doing sixth form. Turns out I’m doing a bit better with my grades. Maybe I can go to Uni too. Not the one you’ll go, sure, and definitely not next year. Something more modest in two or three years. _

_ The letters, right. _

_ Quite dirty those letters. Got me blushed. _

_ I have some idea on why you wrote them. And… honestly, there’s quite a lot of things there that made last summer make some sense. _

_ Yours, _

_ Anthony _

Aziraphale was blushed when reading the email too. Yes, the letters were very sexual. But he wasn’t quite sure of what Anthony meant with last summer making sense.

Unless he noticed…

Well.

That was embarrassing.

**About the letters - sent now**

_ Anthony, _

_ Care to elaborate on the letters? _

_ Yours, _

_ Aziraphale _

The answer didn’t take more than five minutes.

**Sure - sent now**

_ Angel, _

_ You’ve learned quite a bit of teasing while writing them. That’s what I meant. Oscar said he’d love to undress you, watch you waltzing naked for him. And you got naked very often last summer. Among other things. Like licking that ice cream from your fingers. Quite a resemblance with the letter of March. Just seemed like you wanted to try these things for real after being tempted with the letters. _

_ I also noticed how the more recent ones has Oscar asking you if you’re not comfortable with the letters anymore. I imagine you’ve stopped writing dirty stuff back. _

_ And as much as I hate it, I have to admit that Oscar is a great writer. The letters got me quite...into it. _

_ Yours, _

_ Anthony _

Aziraphale looked behind himself, checking if anyone could see the screen before writing a reply with his cheeks blushed.

**If you want - sent now**

_ I can write you the same kind of things. _

_ Aziraphale _

Uri came back, so Aziraphale pressed send immediately.

“Done?”

“Yes. Thank you very much. Could you help me create an email for myself?”

* * *

Gabriel went to pick him up that day with a weird expression. At first, Aziraphale was scared that, somehow, he had found out about the laptop or anything else. But it was just his paranoia talking. Gabriel didn’t look angry. He looked sad.

Sad just like when he broke up with Sandy. He was quiet the whole time back to the apartment. Didn’t cook anything nor asked Aziraphale to cook. They ordered some take away and it was impossible not to notice how the pizza and the ice cream Gabriel chose for himself looked a lot like the type of food you dive into when you get rejected.

But Sandy was long gone, so he wasn’t sure of how this could be happening. Maybe another girl from the Uni?

Well, since Gabriel doesn’t seem to worry about him being sad, Aziraphale decided not to worry too much. His brother was old enough to deal with a heartbreak.

So Aziraphale took his Pride and Prejudice book to read - an awful very recent edition - and spent the rest of the evening doing so, until he wasn’t thinking anymore about the fact that he didn’t read Anthony’s reply about writing him dirty emails.

The next day, Aziraphale used the first break to turn on the laptop and read the reply.

**You know my answer - sent yesterday**

_ Seems like we’ll spend some time without seeing each other. I don’t wanna lose the intimacy we built. I don’t wanna step on eggs when we meet again. I wanna be able to continue from where we stopped. _

_ Not only that, but I would love to see what kind of things this angel writes when no one is looking ;) _

_ Anthony _

God, he wanted to continue from where they stopped. Aziraphale smiled like a fool in love in the middle of the library. He was scared that once they had done something more intimate, Anthony would just be...well, neutral about it. It did hurt a bit that he’d likely do the things he writes with Fred or some other friend. Anthony doesn’t hold his desires. He’s not patient, nor a prude. If he’s teased too much, he’ll find someone to do what he wants to do.

Still, it was true for Aziraphale as well that a long time without seeing each other could make such intimacy hard again.

**I won’t be able to reply very often - sent now**

_ But I think we can manage. _

_ I write nothing when no one is looking. I only write when someone is looking. In this case, you, my dear. _

_ You were quite correct with your assumption of the letters. I was indeed trying to replicate the things I’ve learned. I didn’t think, however, that you were so focused with the ice cream. Not that day, at least. _

_ I’ve understood the appeal of the action after you gave me that blowjob. I would, too, get focused on you licking your fingers after that. I would remember how your mouth feels around me. I would wish we were doing it again. _

_ I wish I had the chance to do the same. I’ve caught myself imagining how it tastes. _

_ Aziraphale _

Aziraphale would’ve waited for a reply, but the break was over and he had to return to the class. Lucky for him, none of that was enough to cause a level of arousal that couldn’t be disguised and ignored. But he’d likely have to read the reply somewhere alone.


	18. Holy water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter where Crowley asks for holy water to protect himself from the people he used to hang out with and now want to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will probably have around 23 chapters. That means we're not very far from the end, I promise.

** _[no tittle]_ **

_ Angel, _

_ I can bet your mouth would feel amazing on my cock. I’ve also imagined it after what we did. Not to mention how it must feel like sitting on you. I’m sure you can make me cum like that. You did it only with your fingers. _

_ Anthony _

  
  


** _[no title]_ **

_ Anthony, _

_ I like it that you think of yourself sitting on me. This is not “the usual” is it? You like to be on control when being penetrated. I like it. I like the idea of you controlling me in that situation. _

_ Aziraphale _

**[no title]**

_ Angel, _

_ I think we need to elaborate on that idea. You like being controlled? You want me to fuck myself on you? To use you? Is that so? Keep you still with your cock hard and use you to satisfy myself? I would love to. I would not let you come, though. Not while I’m not completely done. _

_ Anthony _

**[no title]**

_ Anthony, _

_ Yes. God, yes. I’m not sure if I can last that long. _

_ What would you do if I come before you’re done? _

_ Aziraphale _

**[no title]**

_ We would have to find an adequate punishment, wouldn’t we? So we don’t have more bad behavior from you. _

_ Anthony _

**[no title]**

_ What would you do? _

_ Aziraphale _

  
  


**[no title]**

_ You’re gonna have to find out. _

_ Anthony _

**[no title]**

_ This is already punishment. _

_ Aziraphale _

**[no title]**

_ Don’t worry too much, though. With your body, your hands, your eyes on me, I wouldn’t last long either. Bouncing on your cock after I’ve made you suck me would kill me easily. You look too good. I would lose control eventually. _

_ Anthony _

**[no title]**

_ You think I look that good? _

_ Aziraphale _

Break ended and the boy didn’t have time to read any other reply. Specially because he had to deal with his arousal quickly in the bathroom. Imagining Anthony teasing him and blowing him was an easy boost for his release.

_ So this is what teenagers feel in their puberty,  _ he thought. Aziraphale was in flames. He never truly understood the appeal of all that until recently. Admittedly, he was still learning what he liked and what makes him specially interested. That day he learned that the strange idea of Anthony dominating him while bottoming was like gasoline to those flames. Something about him being the cool guy who is always trying to be on top of every situation made it incredibly sexy.

He had the curiosity of trying bottoming too. And so the teen obviously tried fingering himself and found it incredibly good, but couldn’t understand how Anthony came untouched so easily. Still, he’d have to try that too.

_ What am I thinking? I might not even sleep with Anthony at all any time soon. Or maybe ever. If he finds a girlfriend or a boyfriend... _

Another appealing thought was how Anthony seemed to enjoy his body. His compliments made him feel loved and adored. Aziraphale had always been weak for this sort of thing, or any words that would indulge his emotions. Being told that he was handsome, sexy, pretty, cute, sweet. Anything. It made him blush and warm inside. Walking naked in front of his best friend was good. Maybe too good. Even better after knowing how he loved it. His eyes on his bare skin were itself sexual pleasure. If ever Anthony becomes - what? - possessive?

_ Oh, Anthony telling people I’m his. Just his. Not anyone else’s. _

Wanking material for the boy.

Anthony seemed to know most of these preferences now. And Aziraphale knew a bit about Anthony too.

He knew he was respectful and worried about him. Despite his impatience and impulsiveness, Anthony hadn’t fallen for his own impulses after Aziraphale’s teases. He had been hard for most of the last summer, waking up aroused every night, spending more time in the shower, watching him closely when he got naked, and very obviously watching Aziraphale wanking when they watched the videos. Those were the hints he needed to crawl to his bed on their last night together. They both wanted it and it was obvious. But he needed to show Anthony that he wanted it too. That Oscar wasn’t his priority. He also needed to prove that it was okay. That being touched was fine. That he didn’t see sex as something shameful or dirty. Because being called Angel might’ve made Anthony think of him as a prude.

And Aziraphale wasn’t.

Not that he was some horny teen who can only think of sex. Far from that. Aziraphale never thought of sex as something wrong or embarrassing. It was normal, good, and part of existence. It escaped his intelligence how people like his mother could conceive that God would make sex a mandatory part for the continuity of life for most of creation and add sins to it. Make it a relevant step for love between two people and a way to send them to hell at the same time. God is not a prankster, Aziraphale thought. Sex is good.

So he really,  _ really _ wanted to have sex with Anthony.

But Anthony didn’t even know that Aziraphale was living in London. And continued to not know for quite some time.

Eventually, around October, Anthony’s replies became less immediate. Sometimes it would take a day or two. It kept happening more and more often. Around late November, it took Anthony 5 days to reply a quick email. In mid December, he hadn’t yet replied an email sent fifteen days ago.

_ He got tired of me _ , Aziraphale thought.  _ He found someone, maybe? _

Along with this worry, there was also the fact that he’d spend holidays with his family in the farm. Seeing his mother again was enough to trigger anxiety, specially after all the dirty things he had written.

Before going, Aziraphale asked Gabriel to go with him to a book shop. It was the first time he dared to go to Soho. He needed something to read to during the holidays back in the farm. At least that was his excuse to visit Madame Tracy.

“There are no books here, only dust,” complained Gabriel, before sneezing for the tenth time. “I’ll be in the tailor right across the street,” he said, quickly leaving.

Aziraphale breathed in relief. He couldn’t remember the last time Gabriel left him alone for a second. He wandered around the book shop, noticing how a few piles were still the same that he had seen the first time he was there. The couch where Anthony sat after being hit by a car was in the very same place. Madame Tracy, like always, wasn’t at the front of the shop. She only arrived several minutes later.

“Look at you!” the woman said, making him startled. “You’re so big! You grew up quite a bit, didn’t you? You’re a man now.”

Aziraphale smiled.

“Thank you. You look exactly the same, Madame Tracy. Hasn’t aged one day.”

“Oh, tell that to my joints. You’re so kind, my dear. Where’s your friend?”

Aziraphale sighed. She instantly frowned.

“Have you two fought? He didn’t tell me the last time he was here.”

“He visits you?”

Anthony hated books. Always did. There was nothing for him in this book shop.

“Oh, yes. Crowley and his friends, Anathema and Fred. That girl is incredible, she has a future as a fortune teller, I can tell you. Fred scared me a little, but he’s very funny, isn’t he?”

Aziraphale pressed his lips in a tight line.

“Never seen Anathema in person. But yes, Fred looks like he might be funny.”

“Oh, do you know if Crowley has recovered?”

“Recovered? From what?”

Madame Tracy hesitated.

“Don’t mind me, dear. I’m a bit senile. It’s nothing.”

“Recover from what, Madame Tracy?” he insisted.

“Well..” she looked away, guilty. “Last time Anathema came here she said he was having some trouble with drugs. But he was recovering well.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened instantly. Drugs? Anthony was doing drugs?

“What happened? Do you know anything else?”

“No, no, my dear. I don’t know much else. Anathema just told me she was worried, but glad that he admitted the problem. I believe he’s doing fine.”

They both were startled when Gabriel knocked on the window and waved, asking him to hurry up.

“If you see him him again…” he started, not sure of what he wanted from Madame Tracy, “would you tell him I was here?”

“Sure, my dear.”

Aziraphale left the shop making a huge effort to not act like his heart was broken in a million pieces.

* * *

**[no title] - sent now**

Anthony,

I’ve visited Madame Tracy today. She told me something very weird. That you’re having problems with drugs. What is happening? Are you okay?

Please be honest with me

Aziraphale.

Christmas came and passed. No replies came until late January. The holidays were even more scary than he could’ve hoped. His mother was still very terrifying. Making sure to talk about Oscar and how he insisted on contaminating this sacred city of God with his sins. Or how she heard about a lesbian couple moving nearby and was considering talking about it with her colleagues to not allow them in the church, if they do as much as try to be Christians.

The season, which was Aziraphale’s favorite, became a nightmare to keep the fear alive in his mind, even after he returned to London and finally got a reply from Anthony.

**Angel - sent 3 hours ago**

_ I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you. Do you still wanna see me? Have you given up on me? I’m out of rehab for good. I’m clean. I’ll understand if you don’t. I wish I was able to see you when you were in London. _

_ Always yours, _

_ Anthony _

**I’m not disappointed - sent now**

_ Anthony, _

_ I’m not disappointed, I’m worried. What happened? You never told me you were taking drugs. You know how I feel about it. I don’t think you’ve changed so I don’t have any reason to not want to see you. I just wanna understand what happened. You remember the thing with my father. I’ve tried to help him, not judge him. And he even gave me the gun to keep it away from him, and I think he’s doing some progress. I would never turn my back on you or judge you. You can trust me. Talk to me. _

_ I also wanted to see you. _

_ Aziraphale _

**Can we meet? - sent 45 minutes ago**

_ Will you come to London any time soon? I wanna see you. Need to ask you something. It’s important. _

_ Anthony _

**In June - sent now**

_ Gabriel is planning to go on a mission trip after graduation. He’ll be leaving in June. I’ll stay in his flat for about a week helping him. We can meet then. Is that okay? _

_ Aziraphale _

**Better than never - sent 2 hours ago**

_ June it is. _

_ Anthony _

Gabriel was indeed leaving for a mission trip, against his mother’s wishes. She considered making Aziraphale come back, but Oscar was still in town and she had never heard of Anthony again. So she asked Newt to live in the flat with him, share the high rent for the next school year. Like his friend would be enough to keep Aziraphale away from sin.

It obviously wasn’t.

The emails they sent one another after January had close to no sexual content. In fact, they were shorter, less intimate, and a bit weird. Aziraphale kept trying to bring their intimacy back, but Anthony’s words were never very warm.

So when June came and they chose a place - Berkeley square - to meet, they definitely weren’t as close as he wished they were.

Aziraphale felt like criminal. The sense that he was doing something terribly wrong was given by the fact that he stood in front of the lake, watching the ducks, like a super spy in disguise, waiting for his informant.

Still, this was the first time he’d see Anthony after so long, so he should be happier than he was. But in truth, Aziraphale was worried for his friend, more than he was eager to see him.

How the rehab changed him? Would he find him weaker, thinner? Anthony always reinforced that the drugs weren’t that bad and he wasn’t addicted. And eventually, stopped talking about them, affirming that he was clean.

A particularly small duck was trying to feed from the bread a little girl was throwing, despite the bigger ones having the advantage over him. It caught his attention. His eyes stayed there, lingering on the animal, when a figure stopped by his side, making him gasp. The time away from him made Aziraphale particularly sensitive to his presence, he noticed. There were butterflies in his stomach, and they were all telling Aziraphale to turn and kiss his friend.

“Anthony” he said, startled.

“Sorry. How are you doing?”

Anthony was taller than him now, by not much. His hair was longer, he had a tattoo of a snake on the side of his head, near the ear, and a piercing on his lower lip. His eyes were hidden by glasses, but even covered, it was possible to see the deep dark circles around them. His face was lacking color, his cheeks were very skinny. Still, he was the most attractive person on the planet for him.

“I suppose I should ask you the same,” Aziraphale said, turning again to look at the ducks.

“I’m good. Well, not exactly. I need something.”

“Hm?”

“I’ve… got some problems. I think you’ll be able to help me”

Anthony passed him a small paper. Aziraphale took it and opened it.

_ Your father’s gun _

He shivered. His knees felt weak. What does that mean? Why would he…? Aziraphale was in constant fear that his father would someday pull that trigger on his own head. Is that why Anthony wanted this? Did he get this low? Not to mention the risk he’d go through to walk around with a gun!

“Absolutely not! Are you crazy? No! Out of question!”

Anthony frowned and turned to him.

“I know it’s asking too much, but I’ve got some dangerous people on my back…”

“No!” he interrupted. “You want me to steal a gun to give you? You called me for this? After all this time you ask me to come to London for this? 

“Don’t be absurd, Aziraphale. I didn’t ask you to come to London. You’ve been living here, haven’t you?”

Aziraphale swallowed any answer. When was the last time he heard Anthony say his name? His actual name? He was still trying to remember when he continued:

“Yeah, I know,” Anthony affirmed, bitterly. Hurt. “I didn’t believe at first. You wouldn't do that, I thought. But it’s true. A whole year, uh? Turns out you’re studying with a friend of mine. Hastur.”

“I did this because…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Anthony interrupted him. “I’m a danger to you, am I not? Bad company. A risk you’re not willing to take.”

Aziraphale’s cheeks flushed with anger. The risk was losing his entire family. Losing his mother forever. As bad as she was when it comes to these things, she was still his mother, he still loved her, and had hopes to change her someday.

“Do you know the trouble I’d be in if they knew we’ve been  _ fraternizing _ ?”

“ _ Fraternizing? _ ”

“Whatever you wish to call it.”

“Oh, I have plenty of people to fraternize with, angel. I don’t need you.”

He knew Anthony had likely said that out of impulse. He knew he didn’t mean it. But it hurt for real. Because deep inside, it was true. The kind of  _ fraternizing _ they did was something Anthony could have any time. And their friendship had weakened lately. So he might as well mean it. He wasn’t that special anymore.

“And the feeling is mutual,” Aziraphale spat, throwing the paper away, then left.

There was a world under his feet when he got to the Berkeley square. This world was made of all the times he believed he’d have Anthony’s love one day, and it was secured by the certainty of his friendship. This world was solid, stable, and it kept Aziraphale grounded. It was the most reliable thing he had.

When he left the Berkeley square, he was stepping on air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we'll start seeing a bit of these very well known scenes translated to human stuff.  
Please do remember that these two can never stay angry at each other for long. You know how Anthony is feeling right now.
> 
> Also: Gabriel is not on mission trip. And be prepared for "you go too fast for me".


	19. Too fast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know what this title is about

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You want Anthony's POV? You get Anthony's POV.  
The sad bits are almost over, I promise. They'll be happy soon.

Aziraphale had read the email about 10 times now. He wasn’t alone in the flat, but his company wasn’t Gabriel anymore, it was Newt, so it was okay to cry.

It was okay to be free, in fact. This new phase of his life should be happier and better. No one was keeping track of where he goes and what he does. He’d be able to see Anthony whenever he wanted - heck, he could even have Anthony spending the night in the flat.

But after one week of silence between them, the email he got made his whole body tremble.

**I’m sorry - sent 4 hours ago - from a.jcrowley**

_ Sorry, Angel. I was too harsh with you. But can’t you see what your family is doing to you? They won’t stop. Your mother is not gonna change while you do everything she says and keeps hiding who you are. I could help you. I wanna help you. _

_ I’m sorry about what I said. Stupid of me. Sorry. _

_ I’ve been acting like a dick. _

_ And I’m not exactly clean like I said. _

_ Can we meet again? _

_ Anthony _

He should be relieved with these words, but many things had to be considered.

The most relevant of them was that Anthony wanted his father’s gun. And if he gets closer to him again, if they return to that friendship, if they share some real intimacy again, Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he’d be able to say no when he asks it again.

The second thing to be considered was that Anthony still insisted on some sort of rebellion against his family. Of course he did. That’s who he is. That’s what he does. If someone prohibits Anthony of doing something, he’ll do it with pleasure. Aziraphale was the opposite. He worried about his loved ones, even if these loved ones were hurting him. He craved for their love and acceptance. All he wanted was to be a good son for his mother, so she’ll love him more and this love would be enough to overcome her disapproval of homosexuals.

Being with Anthony meant controlling his rebellious ideas in order to keep everything in its right way. No, he wasn’t ready to go against his mother and risk losing his family. He wasn’t ready to be intense as Anthony was.

Then there was that last part of the email. Anthony isn’t clean. He’s still doing drugs after rehab. Which meant that Aziraphale couldn’t deny to help him.

He stared at the computer screen for a long while, thinking of a way to answer, when a new email popped in the inbox. It wasn’t from Anthony. 

**Can we meet? - sent 5 hours ago - from ana.thema**

_ Hi, _

_ I’m not sure if you know me. I’m Crowley’s friend, Anathema. I was his girlfriend a while ago. I think he spoke of me. I’ll kill him if he hasn’t. _

_ Can I see you? _

_ Anathema _

There was a time when Aziraphale would feel uncomfortable about meeting her. But now it felt like the best thing he could do at the moment. So he quickly wrote a reply with his address.

“Newt?” Aziraphale called.

“Yes?” the boy answered from his room.

“We’re gonna have a visit, okay?”

“Okay.”

They agreed that she’d come to the flat that afternoon. Aziraphale only had two days in London before he’d go spend the summer at the farm.

Nervous about what she could tell him, the boy boiled some water before she arrived. Tea always worked to make him calmer. Newt went to take a shower shortly before the doorbell rang.

Anathema was… impressive. Aziraphale never imagined her as beautiful as she was. Not only pretty, but actually a woman that would stand out in a crowd. They eyed each other with the same interest, analyzing the person that Anthony had spoken off so much.

“Hi, you must be Aziraphale,” she said.

“Yes, please come in, Anathema.”

She thanked him and entered the flat. Lots of boxes were all over. Some of them were Gabriel’s things that Aziraphale should take to the farm. Others were Newt’s. He hadn’t yet finished unpacking.

“I’ve made tea,” he said, showing her the living room couch.

“Thank you.”

Aziraphale brought the two cups and placed them on the center table. Anathema quickly took hers and drank a sip.

“You living here alone?” she asked.

“No, I was living with my brother and now with a friend.”

“A friend?” she asked, in a confused voice. “A boyfriend maybe?”

“Oh, no, no, no. Newt is not… no. He’s not gay. He’s in the shower, you’ll see him.”

It also sounded very weird that Aziraphale would live with a boyfriend at the age of 17. Anathema nodded and put the cup back on the table.

“So… Aziraphale. The reason why I wanted to see you is… I’m worried about Crowley.”

Aziraphale’s stomach ached. He wasn’t prepared to hear any bad news about Anthony. So instead of asking why, he drank a sip of tea.

“He got in some serious trouble. Fred tried to help him, but it seems like he’s really testing his ability to get out alive from the most ridiculous situations. And let me tell you, he’s been very lucky with that.”

“Are you talking about his use of drugs?”

“Yes and no,” she answered, pausing to think of a way to explain it. “Crowley was using a lot of drugs, yes. Only meth. And that shit is very expensive. When his parents found out he was stealing money from their wallets, they put him in rehab. But Crowley still had quite a few debts with the dealers. They beat him a few times. Promised to kill him next. He found a way to pay his debt by selling their drugs himself.”

Aziraphale’s expression didn’t change, but the blood left his face. Luckily he wasn’t holding the tea cup, because it would’ve fallen now.

“He’s dealing drugs?”

“To pay his debt. But that also meant he relapsed. Can you see how deep in shit he is? He doesn’t want to sell drugs, he’s scared, and he deals with his fear by taking meth. We don’t know what to do. We’ve tried to talk to his parents, but whenever they try to get closer, he gets farther from them. So we feel like it’s only gonna get worse if they try harder.”

That’s why he asked for the gun, then. He wants to feel safe by having a way to defend himself in case he needs it.

“What can I do to help?”

“I don’t know,” Anathema answered. “But you seem to be the only person he listens to. He needs your help more than anything, Aziraphale.”

He lowered his head.

“Anathema, I don’t think Anthony would listen to me the way you think. He’s pushed me away lately. And… look, I didn’t know any of this. He never told me he was taking drugs. I found out through Madame Tracy. He doesn’t trust me or relies on me the way you believe he does.”

“Maybe he didn’t tell you about the drugs because he feared you’d do something about it,” Anathema suggested.

“Shouldn’t he trust me in any situation?”

“Well,” she began, “didn’t you hide from him that you were living in London because you feared what he’d do about it?”

Aziraphale swallowed and looked away in shame. It was really the same, wasn’t it?

“Still, he’s been treating me very coldly. Last time we spoke I felt like he didn’t want to be my friend anymore.”

“Look, Crowley will  _ never _ not want to be your friend. He’s just going through a lot of shit. He’s scared, he’s doing something he feels very bad doing, and his best friend lied about where he was because he didn’t trust him and his impulsiveness.”

“It’s not like that!” Aziraphale protested.

“You’re scared because of your family, aren’t you? You’re scared that he’d appear out of nowhere to see you and risk your whole relationship with your family.”

“You think that’s a minor risk?” he asked, angrily.

“Depends on your priorities and beliefs,” she answered. “But I can’t think of a single thing Crowley wouldn’t abandon to be with you in a second, without even thinking.”

“You can’t tell me to abandon my family.”

“I’m not. I’m just telling you to not abandon Crowley.”

Aziraphale’s chest ached and he nodded, lowering his head again.

“He does everything without even thinking,” Aziraphale muttered, “he goes from one thought to the other in a second.”

“And you think too much, Aziraphale. He needs you  _ now _ . Not after you’ve resolved your family problems.”

Anathema stood up to leave. He didn’t see her face when Newt appeared from his room with a wet hair, but they both went quiet. They were staring at each other when Aziraphale looked up.

“I’ll open the door to you,” he said, also standing.

It took her a few seconds to answer.

“Okay, thank you.”

“I’m Newt,” the boy quickly said, nervously.

“Anathema,” she replied.

They were still staring at each other when she stepped out of the flat and the door was closed.

“Isn’t she the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen?” Newt commented.

“Actually… probably yes,” Aziraphale answered, feeling like a big bag of discarded wet tea bags.

* * *

He set up a meeting with Anthony the same day he’d leave London. Somehow he felt like it would be easier - doing what he was about to do - if he could stay away after. He had thought a lot about the conversation with Anathema and about his feelings for Anthony. Also his fears, his worries, the consequences of whatever action he takes. And he wasn’t still quite sure of what to conclude. But he hoped that this meeting would be enough to light some clarity into his thoughts.

He was surprised when Anthony told him they’d meet inside his car. Aziraphale never knew Anthony got a driving licence. Apparently, he did it as soon as he turned 17.

The car was parked in front of Madame Tracy’s book shop, a place both of them knew well. He saw the boy inside an old model of Ford - the type of car that is usually exhibited in collections. Obviously, it was his father’s car.

Entering, Aziraphale felt even more of a criminal. He was glad that they were sitting this time, because he didn’t trust his legs.

“You like the car?” Anthony asked.

Aziraphale gave him an ironic short laugh. The boy was being gentle this time.

“I suppose.”

“Look, Angel,” he started, “what I said last week…”

Aziraphale’s throat tightened. He had prepared himself for this conversation, but he definitely didn’t feel ready for it. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the handbag he was carrying and placed it on Anthony’s lap.

Anthony unzipped it.

“The gun?”

“I figured you’d find some worst ways to get one if you really want one. There’s no bullets, though. Promise me you won’t use it.”

Anthony closed the bag and put it in the backseat, carefully.

“Thank you.”

“Promise me.”

“I…”

“Promise me, Anthony.”

“I promise.”

“And promise me you’ll stop using and dealing drugs.”

Anthony was caught by surprise with that one.

“Who told you?”

“Promise, Anthony.”

He cursed under his breath, irritated.

“Will you?”

“I never wanted to start, angel. I’m not doing it because I want to. I’d have stopped if I could.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, remembering how Anathema said that there was nothing Crowley wouldn’t abandon for Aziraphale, “but I’m asking you to stop. Will you?”

Anthony looked away for a moment.

“I will.”

Aziraphale nodded and looked away too, through the window. It was hard to breathe now.

“You’re leaving today?” Anthony asked.

“Yes. I’ll take the train at 4pm.”

“We could go have lunch together. What do you say?”

Aziraphale turned his head to look at Anthony’s hopeful expression. He didn’t even look like the same person who met him at the Berkeley square. But that’s who he is. Jumping from one mindset to the other. Deciding things in seconds. Doing everything on impulse. Abandoning things without thinking. Ready to risk his life and rebel.

“No, thank you. But someday we could… have a picnic. Dine together.”

And Aziraphale was stuck with his fears and the slow process of deciding what was better and how to make everyone happy. Losing no one. Loving everyone. Saying no, but keeping hope.

“I can give you a lift, anywhere you want to go,” Anthony insisted, because future plans were the same as no plans for the boy.

Aziraphale’s lips trembled. He wanted to turn around and kiss him. Tell him how much he loved him, and but how scared he was.

“You go too fast for me, Crowley.”

He opened the door, left the car, and walked two blocks before he started crying.

* * *

Anthony’s head was a mess those days. It was hard to trust himself. When Aziraphale said he goes too fast, those words meant nothing to him. Not in meaning, at least. In feelings, it meant rejection.

But going too fast is not something he can’t change, despite how much he was hurting.

“I have no idea,” said Fred, lighting up a cigarette. “I really don’t know what it could mean, since you two know each other since you were 5. There’s no way you’re too fast. You’re too slow.”

Anthony was lying on the couch of Fred’s dorm. His friend had been approved for the Royal Academy of Music. Quite the achievement.

“Right? It’s been like...12 years? How can I go too fast?” Anthony complained, looking up at the ceiling. He sighed, sat up and opened his bag, taking a small bottle and a needle.

“You’re injecting now?” Fred complained. “You’re really gonna do that here?”

“You’re really not in position to criticize me,” Anthony retorted. “They don’t give me the pills anymore.”

“Because you take them all. And really, thanks for the reminder that this is all my fault,” Fred sighed, taking a sit at the table.

Anthony knew that the other was watching as he injected the meth. He knew how bad Fred felt for this. But it’s not like an addiction gives you the chance to choose when you’re gonna take a dose. He was craving it. He needed it.

“Not your fault,” Anthony said, closing his fist after the needle left his arm, “don’t think so little of yourself. I did this to me, Fred. You used to take the same thing I took, and you’re not addicted.”

“What about the rehab?” he asked.

Anthony kept opening and closing his fist, feeling the substance travel through his body.

“I hated every second of it. Turns out I’m quite creating with hidden stashes.”

“You took meth in the rehab?”

“They said I was the patient with the quickest recovery period,” Anthony commented, “and they let me take care of the garden. I was burying the pills.”

Fred rubbed his face with both hands. When he looked at Anthony again, his eyes were redish.

“Oi, don’t start crying,” Anthony asked, starting to feel the rush of dopamine in his brain. It was noticeable. His face lit up with a smile.

“I’ve ruined your life,” Fred decided.

Those words should’ve made Anthony sad. If his dose was remotely close from the initial doses from when he started taking meth, he’d get really sad right now. Because, at first, the meth he used to take was far from enough to make him get really high. Smaller doses would even calm him down, keep him focused. And would never cause his level of addiction. The problem began when the doses went up.

Now he was unable to feel sad even hearing one of his best friends accuse himself of ruining his life. But he’d feel sad later, of course. Later he’d cry for hours.

“What about college, Crowley? Do you intend on… at least trying?”

He shrugged, starting to giggle.

“I would never be approved, Fred. Don’t be silly. And I lost nearly a month in rehab. I have to start over first year of sixth form. I’m at least three years away from college. Anathema will go to college next year too.”

He’d be alone. All his friends would carry on with their lives, and he’d stay behind. Lost. Aziraphale would go to college too, after all.

“Do you have any plans?” Fred asked, sounding desperate for any good news coming from Anthony.

“I do, in fact,” he said, standing up. He walked to Fred’s CD player, put one of the Queen’s albums and pressed play. “I’m gonna have a lot of fun, sell a lot of drugs…” he started, “then I’m gonna do what I promised to Angel.”

Killer Queen started to play. Anthony began to pace around the room, moving his arms, his hips, like a very long snake.

“What did you promise him?”

“Did you know I have one Queen song for each of my friends?” Anthony said, skipping the question, “this is Anathema’s song.”

“Anathema is far from being a high end prostitute,” Fred said, after a short giggle.

“Don’t be silly. It’s not just the lyrics, it’s the whole sensation that the music gives me,” he explained, pausing to sing, “ _ she's a Killer Queen, gunpowder, gelatine, dynamite with a laser beam,” _ he pointed at Fred.

“Guarantee to blow your mind,” his friend followed.

“Anytiiiiime,” Anthony ended in a falsetto.

“What’s my song?” Fred questioned.

“I’m surprised you don’t know,” the boy said, still moving his limbs to the rhythm of the music.

“I want to break free?” Fred tried, “Because of my birthday?”

“I would’ve fallen in love with you that day if I wasn’t in love with Angel before,” Crowley confessed, eyes closed, between his singing.

“We kissed once, kid, calm down.”

Crowley, spun around and approached Fred, sitting on his lap with crossed legs, straight posture, in a feminine pose.

“Funny of you to say that,” he said, “because you did want to do more, didn’t you?”

Fred lifted one eyebrow. Anthony smirked. What a change in their relationship. They began as a guy who knows more of the world and teases Anthony, and now Fred was the responsible one, dealing with a drug addict too high to know best, confessing things and trying to make him confess things as well.

“You say it as if this was a huge secret. As if I tried to hide something. But yeah, you falling on your knees for meth was a huge turn off.”

Anthony rolled his eyes, tired of that guilty trip.

“Like I was saying, I’ll do what I promised Angel. He asked me to stop using and selling drugs. I said I would. I won’t break my promise. Even if he never sees me again.”

Fred smiled. A genuine smile. He nodded, letting that smile become almost a laugh on his face.

“Is that all that took? He just needed to ask?”

It’s not like Anthony was waiting for that to stop. He wanted to stop a long time ago. But he found out that the way Aziraphale looks at him when he knows that Anthony is on drugs is… unbearable. He couldn’t stay close to Aziraphale in this condition. Nor he wanted the other putting up with his shit. If he wanted to be with Aziraphale, this is what it took.

“Crazy, uh?”

“How are you gonna do that? How much do you owe?”

“I’m gonna hide, actually. I’m gonna go to rehab. And I’ll get clean for real this time. In rehab they can’t come after me. And I owe… enough.”

“You can’t stay there forever.”

“I’ll think of something after meth is not part of my decision making,” he decided. “Because right now, I’m doing everything that meth tells me to. It’s… ridiculous, because I started taking it to gain courage. And now I need courage to stop it. It’s gonna be hell, the withdrawal. I read about it.”

Fred, who was very patient about the other being sat on his lap, put a hand on his head and messed his hair.

“You’re gonna make it. And your Angel will be proud of you.”

Anthony smiled and pinched Fred’s cheek.

“You look so cute when you’re being a mature adult.”

Fred rolled his eyes and pushed Anthony off his lap.

Anthony fell on the floor, but the music changed to Don’t Stop Me Now, so he stood up on a jump and started singing and dancing around the room.

“What’s Aziraphale’s song?” Fred asked.

“ _ You’re my best friend  _ when we’re good. Then  _ Love of my life  _ when he told me I was too fast for him. And  _ I was born to love you _ when I dream of him.”

“You know what song is your song?” Fred said, laughing. “ _ Good old fashioned lover boy _ .”

“Right now I’m  _ Get Down, Make Love, _ ” Anthony said, then continued singing, “I’m gonna go, go, go, there’s no stopping meeeeeeee!”

“Yes, who are you gonna make love to?” Fred laughed.

“Are you volunteering?”

“I know you’re not gonna do anything you haven’t done yet with Aziraphale,” Fred said, rolling his eyes, “the old fashioned lover boy.”

“I sucked his cock,” Anthony said, winking at Fred.

The suggestion made the other instantly confused. Or shocked. Or anything that just made him go quiet, without any answer.

“Dude, you want this so badly,” Anthony laughed.

“Not quite,” Fred answered, regaining his confident stance. “I can get a blowjob anytime. You know what I’ve always wanted to do with you?”

“I know,” Anthony said, turning around and pointing at his arse with the rhythm of the music.

“You’re super high and you’re embarrassing yourself,” Fred laughed.

“Bottom boy who comes untouched. You like that. You know I can. That’s what you’ve always wanted.”

“Am I ever going to get it? You were also fingered by Aziraphale. So nothing new.”

“ _ Oh, I’m burning through the sky, yeah, two hundred degrees, that’s why they call me Mr. Fahrenheit… _ ”

“Crowley,” he interrupted.

“I’ll think about it. ... _ traveling at the speed of light, I wanna make supersonic man out of you!” _

“You’re ridiculous.”

* * *

Anthony did as he planned.

He partied a lot for 4 months. And he didn’t even open his email during these months. He knew Aziraphale was probably back in London, going to the second year of his sixth form. He knew he was probably just a few miles away from the love of his life. But he wasn’t ready to look for him, to apologize, to talk to him. First, he had to do what he promised.

The first thing was not to use the gun. Well, not shoot with it.

He went to the house where the dealers met. It was an underground pub with a small room for these sort of meetings. He had to give them the money of the drugs he sold. Despite trying to get more money from the buyers, the dealers always gave him ridiculous amounts of meth that no one would be able to sell in the short time between the meetings, so he had to give them money  _ and _ the leftover. This meant that after checking how much he made and how much was left, they could calculate how much Anthony injected. And the price would go straight to his debts.

It was impossible to pay such debts, but the dealers surely had made more money than what Anthony owed just having him sell the meth. It became an inescapable situation. They would never let the debt end, and if Anthony stopped selling, they’d hurt him. Maybe even kill him so he wouldn’t tell the police their names.

That day he’d put a temporary end to his. A pause.

“I’m not gonna sell your shit anymore,” Anthony said.

The dealer, surrounded by his friends, laughed.

“Do you have the money now?”

“I will have. But you’re gonna have to wait for it. I’m gonna go to the rehab again. When I leave, I’ll pay you.”

“Are you shitting me? What makes you think we’re gonna let you do that? We won’t even let you leave this building.”

“This,” Anthony said, pulling the gun from the back of his trousers.

Everyone stepped back. The dealer gritted his teeth, but didn’t move.

“I’m not gonna shoot you guys. Unless I have to. This is just my insurance. So I can be sure that I’ll leave this building unharmed.”

“You wouldn’t risk killing someone. You’d go to jail.”

“What are my options, I’m eager to hear. Be beaten to death or kill all of you fuckers and go to jail. I prefer the second. So don’t even try to follow me. We can all win in this. I’ll go to rehab and you’ll get your money when I leave. No one gets hurt. You get your money. I get my freedom.”

The chief dealer’s friends stared at him, waiting for his decision.

“Let him go,” he said. “But let me tell you, Snake Eyes. When you leave the rehab, you better have the whole money. No. Twice as much. If you don’t, I can guarantee that the police won’t find your body. Do you understand?”.

“Clear as vodka. See you later, fuckers.”

The second part of his promise came along with the third. He asked his parents to put him in rehab again. Said it would be different this time.

And so he returned to that same clinic. Surrounded by pastel colors, other fuckers like himself, and calm gentle doctors.

He put his bag - with no meth in any form inside - on his bunk bed. Then from there he pulled a picture of him and Aziraphale when they were 14, arm around each other’s neck.

Anthony inhaled, held the air in his lungs, and released it slowly. He was at the top of a roller-coaster, looking from up there at the hell he’d go through in the following weeks. The cold in his stomach, staring at the downfall, started the moment he began to feel hungry. He never feels hungry when he’s on meth. Hunger starts when the withdrawal begins.

So he braced himself. Aziraphale was now his courage pill.

And the fall began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's open for interpretation whether Anthony decided to do anything with Fred. Do tell me if you think he did, because I'm kinda curious about how you people read him.  
Also: Anthony's rehab is a parallel with the 100 years sleeping. But it won't last that long - obviously.  
I'm not gonna dig too deep into mental illness here. If I were writing it as a book, I would go deeper, but I know this fic probably has readers who aren't looking for potential triggers. Still, the initial part of the next chapter might be a trigger for people who've gone through withdrawal. I'll keep it short and not too strong, but I'll add a warning for when it starts and when it ends.  
<3


	20. The half-bookshop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter where there's barely no angst and there's half of a bookshop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My people, the sad days are over. Congratulations, you've survived the angst and now we'll have some better moments.  
But first!  
Disclaimer: the beginning of this chapter has a very light scene of withdrawal syndrome (it's light considering how bad it could be). I've written where it starts and where it ends, in case it's a trigger for you. It's the only heavy thing in this chapter. The rest is light as a fluffy cake.
> 
> I think we'll have only one more chapter, two at most. :)  
And I need to apologize for not posting yesterday and nearly not posting today because my ADHD brain decided I'd be hyperfocused on news about coronavirus and so I've spent the entire week just talking, writing and searching about that thing.

**Withdrawal starts here**  
  
  
Anthony knew this was coming, but nothing would’ve prepared him for when it happened. He was moved to a separated room in the third day of rehab, when the paranoia settled. The hunger was constant and very specific. He craved sugar. Anything with lots of sugar. The doctors were giving him fruits and limited candy. No matter what, he was eating as if his body was trying to compensate for the time he spent not eating anything.

That is, until he started to consider the possibility that his family was asking the doctors to poison his food in order to kill him and get rid of the burden of a meth addict as a son.

The food started tasting weird, smelling suspicious. The doctors seemed to laugh behind his back. He could hear them saying that they should increase the dose and end it quicker.

_ It’s the paranoia, they’re not doing that, _ he kept repeating to himself. He even wrote it on a paper, then on a wall, so he’d remember that this was all part of the process.

Regardless, the paranoia was too vivid, and even repeating that phrase to himself, the food still tasted bitter, because that’s the taste of any poison, his brain decided. So he was eating less and less. Whenever he forced himself to eat, his stomach would reject the food.

By the end of the first week, instead of gaining weight, Anthony lost two pounds. Considering how skinny he already was, this was very significant.

_ I need to eat, _ he kept repeating, desperate for food. The hunger was increasingly bigger, but the taste of food was getting worse.  _ I need to eat. I need to eat. _

Maybe that was why his brain decided to make him hallucinate with the person he trusted the most.

It had been ten days by then. He was still in a separate room, sat on a white bed that had a belt for hands on the sides. In case the patient gets too aggressive. Anthony hadn’t needed to be restrained yet, and he was very proud for this. The tray of breakfast had been delivered a couple of hours ago. The cocoa and the eggs were already cold. The cake, however was still good. Just looking too intimidating. Sometimes, on the corner of his eye, he could see black spots on the dough.

“Hm, that looks delicious,” said Aziraphale.

Aziraphale wasn’t there. Well, he wasn’t there before. Anthony’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing his voice. But whatever he had left of mental sanity was enough to let him know what this was.

“Oi, Angel,” he said, finally hearing his own voice after maybe 20 hours. Sounded husky and weak. “You can eat that if you want.”

Aziraphale, his hallucination, approached him, smiling happily with his red chubby cheeks, and touched the cream of the cake, then licked his finger.

“Hmm it’s really delicious. Aren’t you gonna eat that?”

“I don’t like it,” Anthony answered. Should he answer an hallucination? Does that make it worse? Could anyone blame him for interacting with this specific hallucination?

“Of course you do. Come on, eat it. For me.”

“You’re asking me that because you know I love you, isn’t it?”

The fake Aziraphale smiled even more.

“Of course I know. I’m in your head. And you know I wouldn’t ask you to eat poison.”

Anthony hugged his legs, hid his face on his knees, and tried not to cry.

“You’re in my head. You’d definitely ask me to eat poison.”

He didn’t hear any answer. So he looked up, afraid that the hallucination had vanished. But he was still there, sitting by his side.

“I’m not you, silly. I’m your Angel. This is how you think of me, not just you in Angel’s body. Do you think he would ask you to eat poison?”

“No,” Anthony answered.

“Then I wouldn’t. The cake is very yummy. You’re gonna love it.”

Anthony still looked at Aziraphale for a moment, just enjoying his face for as long as he could, and took the plate with cake.

It tasted sweet. Vanilla, strawberry and Chantilly. After the first spoon, Anthony simply put the whole thing in his mouth.

“You eat too fast, my dear.”

“Don’t  _ too-fast-me _ ever again,” Anthony said, pointing the spoon at the hallucination, with the entire cake in his mouth.

**Withdrawal ends here**

* * *

The withdrawal syndrome lasted for an entire month. At least the most difficult part of it. During this time, he couldn’t receive any visitors. His mental state was never stable enough. When the hallucinations, paranoia, and constant muscle pain stopped, the doctors allowed visits. First, his parents. They spent the day with him. Told Anthony that they were proud of him and that everything would be okay now. And he could leave if he chose to, because they could continue the treatment at home.

But that was not an option. Anthony still had no idea how he’d pay the dealers. And despite the fact that the worst had passed, he was still not sure if he’d be able to deny if offered meth. When the craving is at its most intense moments, Anthony would shove pure sugar in his mouth in order to feel better.

So, for now, he’d rather stay in the rehab.

Two weeks later, Anthony was really feeling a lot better. He was seeing a psychiatrist every two days. And in the last one, she said he didn’t need to talk about symptoms anymore. Next visit, he’d talk about his feelings and how things got to this point.

“I didn’t know what the pill was,” Anthony explained, “but my friend said it would give me courage.”

“What was it?”

“Desoxyn,” he answered, “in a very low dose.”

“How did you feel with the low dose?”

“Calmer. I felt good. I felt like I could do anything I wanted. I felt brave. And I managed to reformulate the whole garden in my house in a day. I could never sit and do one thing for so many hours. But I wasn’t… like on a speed run. I was patient. I was never patient in my life.”

“So the Desoxyn made you calmer and focused?” the doctor asked.

“Yes. It took me much, much higher doses to make me high on it. Not sure if I could do it with Desoxyn.”

“Haven’t your parents taken you to a doctor to see why you’re so impulsive and impatient?”

“They asked me if I wanted to see a psychiatrist a few times.”

“And you?”

“I never wanted. I wasn’t depressed. Or anxious. It’s not like my lack of patience is anxiety. I’m happy doing several things, I’m just annoyed that I can’t do just one thing. And… things always get better after I come back from summer vacations, so it was okay.”

“So you never had an ADHD diagnosis?”

Anthony frowned. He knew what that was. Everyone knew what that was. His class had two kids who would sit closer to the teacher because they were diagnosed.

“I can focus on things I like,” Anthony argued. “I can focus on gardening. Not for too many hours, but no one can. I can focus on… my friend. I always listen to what he says, my thoughts never go anywhere else. I just can’t focus on things I don’t like, so that’s normal.”

“That’s the whole point, Anthony. ADHD people lack dopamine. Dopamine is what makes you focus on things. When you do something you don’t like, there’s no dopamine. When a person who’s not ADHD does something they don’t like, they can see the result of their work as a motivation for doing the boring task, so there’s dopamine because they envision the task done. The ADHD cannot use long term reward as motivation, so there’s no dopamine. In contrast, when you do something you like, there’s a dopamine discharge. You can’t stop doing it and your brain is always focused on that because that’s the thing that makes the dopamine go up. Gardening makes your dopamine go up. Your friend makes your dopamine, and I imagine, your serotonin and oxytocin go up as well.”

“What up with the other things?”

“Love. There’s love in the other neurotransmitters. That’s why being with your friend makes everything better. Your brain works best when you’re with him.”

Anthony blushed and looked away. But, internally, he was smiling. It made a lot of sense. From the first time he spent vacations with Aziraphale, his brain changed. He could sleep at night when he was with him. He could control himself, understand himself.

“You’re smiling,” the psychiatrist said.

Only then he realized he was, indeed, smiling on the outside as well.

“I’ve discovered that I’ve loved him since the day we met,” Anthony said.

She smiled as well.

“I cannot give you ADHD medication now. Actually, perhaps we can postpone any similar medications to when we’re certain you can be responsible about them. As for now, I would recommend some activities that can boost your dopamine in order to compensate your craving.”

Anthony was still away, thinking of his realization about his love for Aziraphale, but came back to the conversation in time to understand what she was saying.

“What kind of activities?”

“Well, you already told me what you like. You took care of the garden here before, so I think you can do that if you want. And we can see if your friend can pay you a visit.”

Anthony took a deep breath. The garden was where he hid the pills, and he was certain that there was at least a few hidden in there. He didn’t know in which condition they’d be, but it was a risk anyway.

“Last time I was here I hid some meth in the garden. I think you should come with me and I’ll give them to you before I take care of the plants.”

The psychiatrist didn’t look remotely surprised, but a little bit proud.

“Sure. What about your friend?”

“I’m not… entirely sure that he’ll want to see me. And I don’t know if I want him to see me like this.”

“Do you have any number I can call?”

“No. He doesn’t have a cell phone, I don’t think. But maybe Anathema can reach him.”

The psychiatrist handed him a sheet of paper. Anthony wrote Anathema’s number and gave it back.

“You’re gonna be alright, Anthony,” she said.

He wasn’t entirely certain of that. Safe in the rehab, he should be okay. But he still didn’t know how to get the money to pay the dealers. So maybe he’d be okay. Or maybe not. Still, he nodded and thanked her before leaving the office.

* * *

Anthony found two plastic bags buried in the garden. Each of them contained two pills. His mind considered lying and saying that there was just one bag, but he didn’t let the thought take root. All the pills were handed to the psychiatrist. And he spent at least a week feeling way better, looking after the plants. One of the supervisors brought him some new seeds, and he started growing flowers. Every time his parents came to visit, he was out in the backyard, with his clothes covered in mud. It was all he wanted to do.

In the second week, while he was checking if one of his flowers could already go from the pot to the ground, the supervisor came over to tell him he had a visit.

“Mum?” he asked.

“No, it’s a boy. Says he’s your friend.”

“Fred?”

“It’s a weird name.”

Anthony’s stomach shivered.

“Let him in,” he said.

The guy went back in and a few minutes later, Aziraphale was coming over through the garden.

Many things crossed his mind as he approached. The fact that he loved Aziraphale from the very beginning, and his brain chemicals were the proof. The old waistcoat he was wearing was one that Anthony had seen many times. The letter he wrote and never gave him. How much he missed seeing his face. The pain of hearing that he  _ goes too fast _ regardless of what that means. The first time they kissed. The lies Aziraphale told because he didn’t trust Anthony. Living in London for a whole year in secret. The shame of Aziraphale knowing of his drug use through Madame Tracy. How the boy was walking so hesitant, how his lips were pinkish, how he was staring with those pale blue eyes, how much love…

“Anthony,” Aziraphale said, muting all the thoughts at once.

He stood up, tapped his hands on his already muddy trousers, and looked at the other. There was a knot in his throat preventing him from speaking.

“I would shake your hand, but…” he said, showing them all dirty.

“We never shake hands, you silly.”

Aziraphale stepped closer and hugged Anthony very tightly.

“Angel, you’re ruining your clothes…”

“Shush, please. Hug me.”

Anthony did, though still trying not to leave the mark of his hands on the cream-colored waistcoat.

“I missed you a lot, Angel.”

“Oh, don’t even tell me,” he said, arms still tight around Anthony.

They eventually let go of one another. Anthony guided him to sit under a tree, in a particularly nice area of the garden, with white metal banks and chairs.

“Are you okay now? I didn’t know how to find you. I called your parents, but they said you couldn’t yet get visits.”

“That was true. I started getting visits a couple weeks ago.”

“Anathema went to my flat today to tell me you wanted to see me.”

“She didn’t come with you?”

“No… apparently Newt asked her if she wanted to stay for tea and she accepted.”

Anthony frowned.

“Newt managed to even talk to Anathema? That’s impressive. Even more impressive that she stayed.”

Aziraphale giggled and looked down at Anthony’s hand. He knew what the other was looking. He still had the marks of where they put the needle to inject him with tranquilizers, vitamins and god knows what. Up his arm, the marks were more careless, where Anthony used to inject meth, so he moved in order to avoid the shame.

“So how’s your parents?”

“My father is recovering very well. He’s working now. And not from home. He still relapses sometimes, but at least they are relapses, not a constant thing. I think he’s back to work to stay away from mum. And my mum… I’m really trying to change the way she thinks.”

Anthony would never bet on Mrs. Eaven changing her homophobia. She was too violent about it to indicate a chance of improvement. And Aziraphale still trying was a tiny little bit frustrating. Because he still wasn’t doing what he had to do to overcome the situation. He was just suffering more.

“What about Gabriel? Is he in town?”

“No. Can you believe it? He’ll be out of the country for two years. It’s so weird. It’s like he doesn’t even care about keeping an eye on me.”

“So you’re alone in London?”

Aziraphale smiled and nodded.

“When you leave we can see each other whenever we want. And… look, I see now how stupid it was not trusting you with the information that…”

“Stop, let’s not lose track of things here,” said Anthony. Yes, he wanted to hear him apologize, he wanted to be sure that Aziraphale changed his mind and now trusted Anthony, but the beginning of the sentence was enough. He was more interested on the rest. “So we can literally see each other all the time?”

“Sure. You just need to leave the rehab. Do you think it’s gonna take long?”

Anthony’s chest felt heavy. Now he wanted to leave as soon as possible. But how long he had before the dealers knew he was out? A month? Two at most, if he was lucky? And then what? It was so unfair. He dealt with his addiction, Aziraphale was right there, with a flat, living in the same city as him. And he couldn’t leave.

“Angel, why don’t we run away together?”

“Run away together?”

“The dealers still want money, and I haven’t found a way to pay them. But we could just run away. You run from your mother. She’ll never find you. We can be free. We don’t need to stay here.”

“Listen to yourself, Anthony!”

“Come on. It’s the best way! Ireland! I’ve got an uncle there. Or Scotland. An old friend is studying in Edinburgh. We have a place to stay. Just you and me.”

“Anthony, I’m not running away! It’s not just you and me, I have a family, you have a family. This is no solution to anything!”

Anthony cursed under his breath, desperation taking over his mind. How would he pay the dealers? Running away was the only option. The only way. And Aziraphale was still putting his homophobic mother first. She’d never change! Why couldn’t he see it?

“Well, when I leave the rehab, I’ll just have to go somewhere else. Scotland, definitely. And when I’m there, I won’t even think about you!”

Aziraphale frowned and stood up. A red alert rang in his head. What the hell was he saying.

“No, no, no, angel. I’m sorry. I’m being stupid. Okay? I’m apologizing. Stay here. That was stupid. I don’t wanna fight with you anymore. I’m just desperate.”

Aziraphale hesitantly sat back in the chair.

“I’ll think of something,” Anthony said, panic starting to build in his chest. It was a feeling way too similar with all the paranoia he felt during the first month of withdrawal, and he feared it would grow into something much worse. He clenched his fists and shut his eyes, thoughts going a thousand miles per hour, until, suddenly, they all stopped.

His body relaxed. The fists opened. The eyes remained closed, because Aziraphale was kissing him, and it would be rude to open them.

He returned the kiss, leaning into it, melting on his mouth like they were starting to form one single person.

“I know you’ll find a way. And I’ll help you with whatever you need,” Aziraphale whispered.

“Angel,” Anthony whispered.

And there, he knew Aziraphale loved him back.

  
  


* * *

The problem was not simple. Not remotely. And the more time passed, the hardest it became. His parents were very worried, since Anthony kept saying he wasn’t okay enough to leave the rehab, though the psychiatrist said the opposite.

Four months. He had already reorganized the whole garden. His flowers were beautiful, strong and healthy. There wasn’t much to do anymore, so he was just placing more and more plants in pots to give them to the rehab workers.

Aziraphale visit him no less than four times a week. And they kissed every single time. The place was full of cameras with blind spots that weren’t nearly enough to do much else, so they were just whispering dirty things to each other during those months. And Anthony was pretty much going insane. He wanted to leave. He wanted to be with Aziraphale. Alone.

Things changed when he received a new visit. Madame Tracy had never come to see him, and had no reason to. So it was a surprise when she came, wearing her pink clothes and the bright red lipstick. She looked better when she wasn’t surrounded by old dusty books.

“Oh, my dear boy. It’s so good to see you. And look at this garden. Did you do all this?”

Anthony tried to clean his hand on jeans, but it wasn’t enough. So he poured some water from the watering can to clean it better, in order to properly greet Madame Tracy.

“I did. I’ve got lots of free time, as you can imagine.”

“I was hoping you’d pay me a visit. But Aziraphale said you don’t know how long you’re gonna stay. Seems like you have problems outside.”

“Did he tell you all that?” Anthony asked, ashamed.

“I assumed. Maybe I know how these things work. You wouldn’t be here if you could come out, isn’t it, dear?”

Anthony sighed and nodded.

“Is it money that you need?”

“Too much of it. I think my parents could pay it, but not without being an impact for them. They shouldn’t need to save me from this, Madame Tracy. But… I think that’s what I’ll have to do. That, or I’ll just run away.”

“Oh, but perhaps I can help you.”

Anthony frowned.

“I’m not gonna accept money, Madame Tracy. I don’t even wanna ask my parents.”

“I’m not talking about money, my boy. Can we sit?”

Anthony showed her the area underneath the tree. Madame Tracy walked there, the area now surrounded by brushes with open flowers, making everything even prettier. She took a sit, crossed her legs, and leaned on the arm of the chair.

“You see, I met a man,” she started, “who’s quite charming. It was the destiny, I can tell you. I found his number on a small sheet of paper years ago. So we’ve been calling each other and now we’ve met in person.”

“A sheet of paper?”

“In the bookshop, can you believe? I found it and I wanted to know what it was about, so I called him. Everything is destiny. We’re in love.”

Anthony’s head was quickly traveling back in time to the sheet of paper where the man who hit him with a car had written his information and number, right before they entered the bookshop for the first time.

“So… congratulations, I guess?”

“And he wants me to go live with him in a small town. I love the idea, but there’s the bookshop. I can’t close it. My husband would be furious.”

“Your dead husband, who doesn’t mind you’re in love again, would be furious if you close the bookshop?”

“That’s just who he is, my boy. I think he knows that the bookshop needs to remain open, and I think now is the moment we’ve been waiting for. I want you to keep the bookshop open. Not with the books. Your plants. You can open a floriculture. You have a talent for this, your flowers are beautiful. I have a back garden that you can use to grow them. It’s really abandoned and not cared for, but you can do as you wish with it. I’m sure that the old shop is gonna see better days.”

“Madame Tracy, I can’t just take your property like that. I don’t have money for rent or anything.”

“You don’t have now,” Madame Tracy said. “You don’t need to pay me immediately. As it is, the bookshop is only money consuming for me. So it’s not like I’m gonna stop earning anything. After you pay your debts, you can start paying rent. It’s good for the both of us. And for my husband.”

Anthony would really say it’s not needed, since this was a huge favour, one that he could never thank enough, but he was out of any options, and open a shop for his flowers did sound incredible.

“What do I do with the books?”

“I’m sure there’s some school or University who’ll love to get them. You can donate, do whatever you want.”

Anthony’s eyes watered and he hugged Madame Tracy very tightly.

“Thank you, Madame Tracy. You saved my life.”

“It’s nothing, dear.”

“Can I ask you something? Don’t tell Aziraphale, yes? I wanna surprise him.”

“As you wish.”

* * *

Aziraphale was getting suspicious of his friends. They were acting strange for a month now. It was already very weird that Newt and Anathema were crazy about each other - and in fact, had been since the day she stayed for tea, months ago. As it turns out, when he returned to the flat that day, they were locked in Newt’s bedroom. And they remained there for another 3 hours.

It was funny how they jumped on each other, how they took literally one day to confess their love, and how now they just seemed made for each other. It didn’t stop being weird, however.

But now they kept inventing things to do whenever Aziraphale suggested a visit to the bookshop. Or even before he suggests.

When he tried to tell Anthony, he was dismissive, and changed the subject quickly. The rehab visits were still frequent, but now he kept saying that Aziraphale shouldn’t come too early because he had some group reunion. He never had those before, and now he was pretty much recovered, so he didn’t know what this was about.

He was starting to get annoyed at how everyone was treating him.

Until one day, Anathema came in the flat unannounced - as she often does, since Newt gave her a key - inviting them both to the bookshop.

“So now you wanna go?” Aziraphale said.

“It’s a good day to visit Madame Tracy, don’t you think, Newt?”

“Yes, I sure do.”

“I have to visit Anthony,” Aziraphale said, frowning. He asked to go there the whole month!

“You can go later. Come on!”

“I can’t be late to see him!” Aziraphale justified.

“Where is he going to go anyway? Come on, it’s a quick thing.”

Against his will, Aziraphale was dragged to the bookshop. He was still complaining and talking nonstop about how they didn’t have the right to just bring him wherever they want and how they didn’t want to come here when he wanted to. So Anathema had to point at the bookshop to make him stop talking.

When he looked, his first reaction was fear. The front of the bookshop was all changed on one side. No books, no dust. Flowers. A sign on top said  _ The Crow’s floriculture _ .

“She sold it?”

“Let’s see,” Anathema said, not even being able to disguise her excitement.

Behind the glass, there were all sorts of beautiful flowers and plants. Since it seemed to be the opening day, quite a few curious people were stopping to look and walk around the new shop. The place was clearly divided in two. Half of it was still keeping the mobilia of the bookshop, but with no books. The other half was all colourful and alive.

Aziraphale’s heart was shattering with the possibility of all those books being gone. So many first editions, so many rare things that he still had to go through!

He barged in, desperate to find the new owner and ask what was done with the books, when he found the last person he expected to see.

“Anthony?”

He was behind the counter, explaining to a guy how to pick the ideal bouquet for his wife, when his eyes met Aziraphale’s.

“Weren’t you…?”

He smiled, finished his explanation, and went to Aziraphale, leaning on the counter.

“I was on semi-intensive care for the past month. I could leave and go back later. Madame Tracy said she’d move out of town and couldn’t close the bookshop because apparently her husband cares a lot about this place, so she offered me the place to sell my plants and get money to pay my debts.”

“That’s why no one wanted me to come here, then.”

Anathema was smiling widely, proud of herself for keeping this up for a whole month.

“Precisely. And why you couldn’t see me before 4 pm. I was here, preparing everything. I think it’s going good. It’s selling.”

Aziraphale couldn’t believe his eyes, his heart, his friend. He was overflowing with love. So proud of Anthony. So healthy-looking behind that counter, as if being able to work with flowers and plants was everything he needed, not just to pay his debts.

“I’m so happy for you, Anthony,” he said, smiling so much that his cheeks were aching. He could kiss him now. And he was going to. Until he remembered. “The books! What happened to the books? What did you do with them?”

“They’re in the back room. I thought you’d want to keep them. Also, I occupied just half of the shop. In case you wanna do something with the other side and the books.”

“You kept them? For me?”

Anthony winked at him and went to attend another woman. He didn’t see how Aziraphale’s smile faded simply because he had no expression for what he was feeling. Right there, in the floriculture that Anthony opened instead of running away, with the books he kept because of him, Aziraphale was certain. Anthony loved him back. He loved him.

And now he couldn’t wait for these clients to leave and the shop to close so he could be alone with Anthony in that half-bookshop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things were a bit off in terms of timeline, but many elements were present.
> 
> Also, yes, that's Shadwell.
> 
> We still need to deal with Aziraphale's mum and Gabriel. Oh, now that I think of it, maybe three chapters. Because we all deserve some smut after all that.


	21. Almost crepes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically NSFW. I was asked to get carried away with the porn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this took over 2 weeks. But let me tell ya. My ADHD brain decided that researching about the coronavirus is the only thing that matters for my entire life. So it was pretty hard to turn that off to write. But here we are!  
Anyway, I truly think we'll have only one more chapter. It might be a long one, but I think the next one is the last :)

“I wasn’t expecting you to use that name,” said Aziraphale, while Anthony closed all the doors and the curtains of the shop. 

Some of the plants he’d carry to the backyard, since they wouldn’t react well with the indoor environment. Each one of them needed its special treatment, and he had memorized the needs of all of the species he had. It was probably the only thing he had so efficiently memorized in his life. That, and all the times he had touched Aziraphale in any way.

“What name?” he asked, carrying a lily vase.

“Crow. I thought you’d use something with snake.”

“It was my first option. But it would be too obvious for the dealers. And… I mean, plants, garden stuff, snake… people might associate me with the devil or something.”

“Temptation and all.”

“Uh?”

“Nothing.”

“Aren’t you gonna take a look at the books?”

Aziraphale jumped from the chair where he was sitting and rushed through the shop to the back door. Anthony finished carrying his plants around and went after Aziraphale, who was now kneeling to check the piles of books. He was tense now. They were alone, something they hadn’t been for years. He could just tell him. Confess his feelings. Kiss him. They were as free as they could hope to be.

The back door lead to a small room with a staircase to the upper floor. The books were all piled up there. But at least they had been dusted.

“I put all first editions there,” Anthony told him, pointing at an specific pile.

Aziraphale stood up and turned to him, smiling, with a rare edition of the bible in both hands.

“I’ve noticed you’ve organized them a little. Where does the staircase leads?”

“Ah, it’s Madame Tracy’s old flat. I haven’t prepared it yet. Not sure if I’m gonna live here. My parents think I shouldn’t be living alone yet.”

“Do you agree?”

Anthony scratched the back of his neck and looked away to a wall. He was free from the drugs. The craving was very rare. And when it happened, he’d go out, buy an energetic drink or a strong coffee with lots of sugar. He hadn’t thought of relapsing in almost a year and his psychiatrist was very proud of his progress. But being alone wasn’t going to help.

“Probably. Not that I’m going to… I don’t mean to say that I would…”

“It’s okay. It’s the responsible thing to do,” said Aziraphale, walking over to kiss him on the cheek.

Anthony’s chest felt like burning. His skin became more sensitive to anything. The tension was almost unbearable. Should he say it now? Should he kiss him? They were kissing now, weren’t they? They were kissing every day in the rehab. It should be the same now. The only reason why it wasn’t is that now they didn’t have anything telling them to stop. So a kiss was likely going to turn into something more. And the mere thought was sending a crazy hurricane of butterflies to his stomach.

“But maybe someday I can live there. I would just have to arrange some furniture,” he told him.

“So there’s no bed?”

Anthony’s response did not reflect the storm of thoughts or how much he felt his body shaking, as if the butterflies were trying to make him take off and fly away in a uncoordinated flight. The reddish cheeks did give him away, though.

“Interested in having a bed at the moment, angel?”

Aziraphale wasn’t taken back by the answer. His cheeks didn’t even flush.

“I’ve been interested in having a bed for months,” he said.

_ Shit, shit, shit  _ said one of Anthony’s two neurons.

_ We’re going to get laid, send all the blood to the penis NOW _ said the other neuron.

“Are you okay?” asked Aziraphale, “you look pale.”

“Just a bit dizzy,” Anthony answered. “Must be the dust from the books. Anyway,” he cleared his throat, “no, there’s no bed up there.”

Aziraphale stepped closer. So close that Anthony had the impression that he’d be feeling his erection at any moment now.

“We can always go to my flat.”

Anthony swallowed. Before he knew, he was kissing Aziraphale, unknowingly taking him backwards until he was against the wall. They were alone and he couldn’t believe it. Aziraphale wanted as much as him, and it was too incredible to not be a dream.

“We do need the bed, though,” Aziraphale whispered, smiling against his lips.

Anthony groaned. Of course they did.

“Can we wait a little, though?” he asked, eyes, closed, embarrassed.

He felt his jeans opening.

“We can hurry things up,” Aziraphale said.

When Anthony opened his eyes, the other was already kneeling down in front of him. This is not something they had done before. And surely not with lights on, in the back of a shop, while he was standing and now resting one hand on the wall in case his legs fail him.

The trousers were kept on. They were only open enough for his pants to be lowered and his cock to be out. He held his breath seconds before the warmth of Aziraphale’s mouth was felt. Looking down, he could see the white curls of his hair, just like an angel, and his own cock disappearing into his mouth.

The tongue! The tongue was pressing the head of his cock against the palate, moving to stimulate the underside of it whenever the bobbing of his head stopped. One of his hands was working on the base, stroking in the same rhythm of the blowjob. And the noises Aziraphale was making. The moans of pleasure that he always does when eating his favorite cake. Savoring his cock like it was vanilla ice cream. Moaning like his member was the tastiest dessert he ever had. And his mouth was so warm, so soft, and so good to be penetrated that Anthony was resisting the urge to just thrust against him. His legs did threaten to fail, or at least to ignore his attempt of not thrusting. His hips did move forward a few times, very lightly.

Aziraphale noticed it, because he looked up, opened his mouth wide, with his tongue out, under his cock. He put both hands behind his back, giving Anthony all the control.

“Angel?” he whispered, eyes full blown.

He just kept eying Anthony with that expression of need, wanting to keep tasting him, sucking him, but still handing the other the power to do it.

Anthony wasn’t going to make him wait any longer. In fact, he was torturing himself each second that he wasn’t thrusting into his mouth. So he held the angel’s hair and moved his hips forward, then back, and forward again, shutting his eyes in pleasure. He was properly fucking Aziraphale’s mouth, and the other was again moaning, this time louder, this time reaching for his own erection.

Aziraphale did mention that he had imagined them like this. Anthony dominating him. It wasn’t exactly domination. Because from the beginning it was Aziraphale who allowed everything, it was Aziraphale who knelt down, Aziraphale who opened his mouth to let him do whatever he wanted. And though Anthony loved this idea, his fear of doing something that would scare him off was limiting his options so far. He needed to know everything that Aziraphale wanted him to do before trying something new.

But fucking his mouth was definitely a big yes. Aziraphale’s cheeks were very flushed, his moans sounded like he was the one receiving a blowjob. This made everything so incredibly hot that Anthony let a bit of improvisation take over.

“You sound like you’re eating your favorite cake, angel. Am I that tasty?”

Aziraphale had little space for movement, but he did nod as much as he could.

Anthony held his hair tightly and pulled his head back. He was close. Legs shaking, heart pounding, he felt the warmth go up his legs, groin, stomach, and his pleasure seemed to melt in cum that spurted directly on Aziraphale’s tongue at first, then over his cheek.

Aziraphale licked him clean, stood up, cleaned his cheek with his forefinger and sucked on it like it was Chantilly icing, moaning with a huge smile.

“Am I a cake to you?” Anthony joked, breathless, leaning on the wall.

“Better. Almost crepes.”

“Almost. Nice.” Anthony giggled.

Aziraphale kissed him, still smiling, and stopped only to give him time to breathe.

“We need to go to your flat,” Anthony reminded him. “Or should I also…”

“The flat,” Aziraphale agreed. “Do you have your father’s car?”

Anthony pulled his pants up and zippered his trousers. While his legs were still wobbly, he was also anxious to continue what they started. And to finally be open with Aziraphale. In a few different ways.

“I am. Is Newt there?”

“Anathema has been in the flat countless times, I don’t think he’ll complain,” said Aziraphale, already walking away, though pulling Anthony with him very closely.

“I have the impression that we’ll be a little louder than them,” Anthony smirked, being taken across the shop and out.

He closed the shop, taking one last look at it. He was proud of what he did with the place. Fred had helped a lot, though he was having a test today and couldn’t come. But now he had other things to worry about.

When they entered the flat, Anthony looked around quick impressed. Newt and Anathema were playing video game in the living room. Apparently, Anathema was winning and Newt was very frustrated. It was still very weird to see the two together. His ex-girlfriend and one of his best friends was always the type to get attention from the popular type of guy. The rugby captain. Or himself. Anthony - or Crowley, as he was called - had always been a popular one. But it seems like she needed something different.

“You can’t do that, that’s cheating!” Anathema complained.

“I can’t win even cheating, that’s not cheating, that’s fair compensation. Oh, Aziraphale!”

Both turned to see Anthony and Aziraphale entering.

“Don’t mind me. We’ll be in the room,” Aziraphale said, “you two have fun.”

“Maybe raise that volume,” Anthony advised, winking at them.

“Anthony!” Aziraphale complained.

“We will,” Anathema guaranteed.

Of course Newt and Anathema would never complain of anything today. They knew how much these two needed this moment and how much they deserved. Anthony thought he could hear them say  _ “finally” _ when they entered Aziraphale’s room.

It looked like he had brought a piece of his old room in the farm to his London flat. Everything had pastel colors, the bookshelves had books all over, and the window was framed with the same light blue curtains that he remembered from the farm. The bed was very vintage, along with the clock on the wall and all the mobilia. The wardrobe looked like it was taken from an antiquary. It probably had.

Now the question was: should he tell him now? Should he wait? Because they were both very horny and perhaps a very heartwarming confession could change that mood completely.

He had no time to choose, since Aziraphale started undressing, his back turned to Anthony, acting like this was just another day at the farm, when they were stupid enough to not know that they were both teasing the other.

He was paralyzed for a moment, watching him push down his trousers, bending over on the process.

_ Wake up. You’ve seen him naked thousands of times. Now go over there! _

He shook his head to clear his mind and kicked off his own shoes. It was impossible not to be nervous, and he could bet that now Aziraphale was also nervous. This wasn’t just some make out. This was real. This was their very first time having sex. And it was absolutely unpredicted. Or sort of. Anthony had prepared himself for this, in case it happens today. But he had not planned how it would happen or any details of it. Which made him suddenly worry about the availability of lube. Should he ask? Should he just go with it?

He’d just go with it. Because now Aziraphale was tapping the bed beside him to call him over, naked like the day he came to this world, and with an erection that was lasting since the bookshop, probably.

He was still wearing his pants when he sat with Aziraphale - and he cursed himself for not thinking before obeying when he was called. He should’ve taken them off first.

“Anthony, my dearest,” said Aziraphale, looking into his eyes, clearly nervous, but happy at the same time, “I really want this. I want everything. I want all the things we talked about in the emails. You don’t need to worry. You know what I like, I’ve told you. It hasn’t changed,” he promised.

Anthony nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but the emails were flooding his mind and sending shivers down his spine. The idea of the emails were very hot and quite a nice wanking material, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do them in his first time. So it took awhile for the voice to come out. 

“Maybe we should… take it easier today?” he suggested, embarrassed.

Aziraphale smiled and pulled Anthony towards him, lying back on the bed. They were so warm together that it was hard not to nest like that and just spend the rest of their lives like this.

“I’m just saying that you don’t need to worry about being too much for me. That’s what’s in your head, isn’t it?” Aziraphale said. “You can be yourself.”

It was a relief, indeed, hearing that.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you have lube?”

Aziraphale almost giggled. He stretched towards the bedside table to pull the drawer and get a bottle. Now Anthony was trying to picture Aziraphale in the drug store buying lube.

“Did you know this was going to happen?” Anthony asked, noticing that the bottle was still sealed closed.

“I had hopes,” Aziraphale admitted.

“I had hopes too,” Anthony said, starting to kiss the other’s neck. Aziraphale relaxed on the mattress, closing his eyes and tilting his head. “I’ve had hopes for a while.”

Aziraphale smelled like shampoo. Not cologne, but shampoo. Some fancy one with a sweet scent. Or perhaps it was a body lotion, since his skin was so smooth under his lips. It didn’t really matter, but Anthony’s brain was taking that in and from now on, it would register the memory of his first time with that scent.

He kissed underneath the other’s ear, lifting his leg to offer something for him to hump on. Aziraphale put a hand on Anthony’s waist, trying to bring him closer, but Anthony held his wrist, then his hand, and moved it away.

“Relax,” he whispered, close to his ear, then sucked on his earlobe.

He watched the skin show the signs of the shivers that Aziraphale felt.

Knowing what he could do, Anthony felt safer. He felt confident. They both wanted this in equal measures. And he truly knew what his Angel liked. So that’s what he’d try to give him, even if when it comes to penetration, they’d both have to figure things out together.

He kissed his collarbones, moving his head along with the other’s breathing. The chest went up and down a little faster when he moved his kisses to his nipples, hard and reactive to his tongue circling them. Aziraphale’s knee bent in response to the little nibble he gave him. The legs tried to hold Anthony closer to press his cock against him. So he was really sensitive there. With one hand, he pinched the other nipple while licking, blowing over, and then nibbling on the other.

Aziraphale released his first audible moan under his breath, and covered his eyes with one arm.

He felt Aziraphale’s cock leaking against his leg. If given enough time, maybe his angel would even reach orgasm with dry humps and nibbles on his nipples. One day he could test this theory.

Because they’d surely have a lot of sex from now on.

He moved on from that area to kiss his stomach, forcing himself to move his leg away from Aziraphale’s cock, which was a shame. The thick, warm feeling was quite hot. He didn’t like it either, since now his penis was left unattended.

Aziraphale lifted his torso, resting his weight on both elbows, in order to look at Anthony. They locked eye for a moment, and Anthony took the opportunity to pinch his nipple again, just to see his expression. The other opened his mouth instantly and lifted his hip slightly, trying to find anything to hump on.

Very, very sensitive indeed.

His cock was still leaking by the time Anthony finally reached it with his kisses. The first time they did this, it was night, and the lights were off. Now he could take a good look at him, closely. Thick, with an exposed head, he was glistening with precum. He’d love to tease him further and provoke a reaction, but he was very anxious as well. The look on Aziraphale’s face, desperate to be touched, was hot as the surface of the sun. An angel like man, desperate for his mouth.

“I’m gonna make you ask for it,” Anthony said, holding the cock by the base with only two fingers.

“Take it easy this time, you said,” Aziraphale protested.

“I know. But this is easy, isn’t it? Just ask me.”

“Please?”

Anthony gave him an evil smile and pretended to lick him, his tongue less than an inch away. Aziraphale seemed to get twice as frustrated with the sight. His cock released a drop of precum that stayed on the head, just to show how much he wanted that tongue.

“Not enough,” Anthony said.

“Please suck me?” Aziraphale tried again.

“You can do better, Angel.”

Aziraphale’s chest was going up and down very fast.

“Anthony, please, suck my cock. Now. Okay? Please. Take it in your mouth. It’s agonizing.”

“Better, but we can work on that in the future,” he teased, and licked the whole shaft to the top, where his tongue circled the head, tasting the precum.

Aziraphale moaned again, gripping the bed sheets. When Anthony swallowed him down, he heard Aziraphale groan and felt the legs around his head move, unquiet.

Tasted like the first time. But now with sounds that they hadn’t been allowed to do. And it was hard to focus like the first time too, because his cock had completely forgotten that it had already come once, because it was aching terribly between his stomach and the mattress.

He stretched his hand up to pinch Aziraphale’s nipple. The reaction was immediate. He thrust his hip against Anthony’s mouth and moaned loud before he could prevent it. The cock, heaving against his tongue and rubbing on his inner cheek felt a little salty, given another leak of precum.

“Angel, open the lube and give it to me,” he asked.

Aziraphale’s hand was shaking when he grabbed the bottle. After trying and failing to open the seal with trembling hands, he bit the plastic and opened it with his mouth, then placed it near Anthony’s face.

Anthony stopped the blowjob only to get rid of the pants that he hadn’t taken off before. Aziraphale’s eyes followed each movement, each gesture. Surely he knew how to prepare Anthony for this, but he felt like it would be safer if he did it himself this time. Just this time. The day they made out under the blankets, Aziraphale had finger fucked him wonderfully well. But everything had to be perfect tonight. So he lied again to continue blowing him after applying lube to his fingers. And while he bobbed his head, his hand went down to his own arse.

“I wanna see, can I see?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony lifted his head to look at him.  _ Aziraphale likes to watch _ , his brain registered. So he knelt up, turned his back on Aziraphale, almost sitting on his lap, close enough so that his free hand could continue to wank him behind his back, and once he was settled and still pleasuring Aziraphale, he inserted his forefinger into his own arse.

He heard the other moan and felt his hand on his waist, lowering quickly to his arse cheeks. He was stroking the Angel’s cock, feeling it thick in his hand, but only a thin finger was felt in his hole. He had to remind himself that this was new to him, and despite the toys he had used, Aziraphale was likely thicker, and no matter how much he wanted, he still couldn’t just sit on him.

Also, it was quite hot to just  _ hear _ how Aziraphale was reacting to this self insertion moment.

He added a second finger and felt the hand on his arse move close to where his hand was. Tempted to just let Aziraphale do it, he stopped the wanking in order to focus on what they were doing now. And also to let the other in need for some stimulation.

As expected, it didn’t take long for Anthony to feel Aziraphale’s finger near his hole. His other hand was caressing his back. The addition of this third finger made Anthony gasp. Luckily Aziraphale had given him an orgasm earlier, or this would be a very quick thing.

“I’m okay,” Anthony said.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” he answered, not really sure, just really impatient.

“Isn’t it better if we keep…”

“No. Now.”

Anthony moved away and turned around. He’d do this looking at Aziraphale. Riding him. Like he had imagined. He was so nervous - and Aziraphale visibly nervous as well - since this was their first time, but he was never so sure of wanting something as he wanted it to happen today. With Aziraphale.

They applied lots of lube on Aziraphale’s cock. Anthony even teased him further while doing so. Then he straddled his legs, putting himself right on top of his cock.

First, he felt the head in his hole. The pressure was scary at first. Thicker than fingers, definitely. He had no idea of how it would feel, if it would hurt too much, if it would be the way he imagined. Aziraphale, noticing the hesitation, lifted his torso and kissed him, holding his waist, taking all those messy thoughts from his head.

And kissing him, Anthony lowered himself, taking in all the sensations. The stretch, the feeling of being filled up slowly, the pain that followed - not closely as bad as he had imagined - and how it faded fast, thanks to his habit of using toys. But this was different of any toy, of course. He could feel Aziraphale’s cock twitch inside of him, feel it warm. He stopped going down when the pain returned - he had never had something so thick and so deep - but Aziraphale waited patiently, kissing him, caressing his hair. Once the pain faded enough, he went all the way down, resting his weight on Aziraphale’s tights. There was no pain anymore. Or, if there was, he couldn’t pay attention to it. Because the cock was doing a fantastic job of filling him enough to feel pleasant just from being there.

“Are you okay?” Aziraphale asked, with shortness of breath.

“Marvelous,” Anthony answered, his cock still very hard and aching. “You?”

“Incredible.”

“It’s gonna get better,” Anthony said, and started to move his hips slowly, testing the feeling, seeing if it would hurt and how it felt.

And it felt good. But not enough. Not closely enough. Aziraphale’s hand on his waist helped him dance on his lap. They were both breathing heavily, paying attention to each other’s reaction. But although the feeling was pleasant, it wasn’t proper pleasure yet for Anthony.

So he went up a few inches and back again.

And that did it. He arched his back and might’ve cried out something like  _ fuck _ but he wasn’t sure. So he did it again, and again, until he was gaining a nice pace. Or something like that. Because at some point, Anthony was just going up and down as much as he could, chasing that electric feeling of Aziraphale’s cock pressing and rubbing his prostate on every entrance.

He held the headboard for support. They couldn’t hold each other anymore, since he was bouncing faster now, so Aziraphale leaned on his hands on the mattress so he could thrust against Anthony.

This was one of their themes in the email. Anthony using Aziraphale to pleasure himself. But what they were doing had nothing to do with fantasy. It was just the way it happened, no planning. No actual intention. Just the heat of the moment.

The thrusts, meeting Anthony’s movement when he went down, sped things up. He moaned out loud, a moan that lasted at least half a minute, being cut for less than a second every time their bodies met and the cock was deep inside of him. Aziraphale was whispering stuff like  _ oh dear  _ and  _ Anthony, please _ . But it wasn’t really supposed to mean anything. They just didn’t know what to do with that pleasure.

“Fuck, Angel. Fuck. Harder. Anything. More, please,” he cried out, shutting his eyes, trying desperately to bounce faster, but it was just not possible anymore.

Aziraphale also had limited space to do much else. He was acting against gravity. But the way the thrusts became less rhythmic proved that he was also trying to thrust faster.

“How do I…?”

Anthony got off his lap and got on all fours in front of Aziraphale. He did want to look at him while doing this, but at the moment he was just desperate to get more of his cock. It didn’t take ten seconds for him to feel Aziraphale penetrating him again from behind, knelt on the bed.

The position changed everything. The thrusts were easier and harder, and Anthony could move back and forward as well. The sound of their bodies colliding, with the lube that spread everywhere, was now faster, nonstop. Anthony was experiencing a type of pleasure that was completely different. It was something closer to unbearable. His muscles were all tense, his legs were twitching, his fingers were digging the mattress, with his knuckles white from the strength applied on his closed fists. It was like he had reached his melting point. The pleasure was warm and seemed to travel through his muscles, down his legs, up his belly, burning on his cock. He opened his eyes to look underneath himself, and saw that there was a long line of precum dripping from his cock to the sheets.

He remembered a lot time ago when Fred said that some people are just natural bottoms. Anthony was never so sure that he was a good bottom until he started feeling his orgasm build up incredibly fast only from being fucked hard. The first fuck in his life, and he didn’t feel like he needed even the lightest touch to his cock. In fact, he felt like a touch right now would ruin the orgasm.

“My dearest,” Aziraphale moaned, starting to focus on thrusting hard rather than fast. He was clearly holding back by now.

Anthony would gladly come in that position. It would be easy, fast, and fantastic. He’d come within seconds now. But he wanted to remember Aziraphale’s face when it happens. It was important. So he moved away again, ignored the other’s instant protest, and lied on his back, legs spread open.

Aziraphale quickly understood the hint and penetrated him again. This time he had all the control, being on top. And he recovered the pace fast. Anthony tried his best to keep his eyes open, but it was a natural reaction to a pleasure that was occupying his entire mind. He bit his hand, covered his eyes, grabbed the sheets, moaned, groaned, and finally, a thrust particularly well aimed sent him over the edge.

“I’m coming, Angel. I’m coming. I’m…”

His cum came out in long spurts, timed with Aziraphale’s continuous thrusts. His muscles tensed so hard that he almost had a cramp on his leg. He must’ve clenched a lot around Aziraphale’s cock, or the other was already trying very hard not to cum too, because before his orgasm was over, he felt his hole being filled in warm cum. Aziraphale’s moan mixed with his own, and he discovered that he loved the sensation of being filled like that.

They were exhausted, and still having some waves of bliss traveling through their bodies when Aziraphale lied next him.

It took them around a minute to stabilize their breath in order to talk.

Anthony was full of love. And he was confident that now he could say it. Without fear or hesitation, he could tell him. It was okay now like it had never been. In fact, it felt obvious. Needless. Insufficient, even. Just saying  _ I love you _ now sounded wrong. It wasn’t that. That’s not what he needed to say. Because it didn’t match everything he had felt through the years.

“Angel,” he started, pausing to breathe. He turned on his side to look at him. The light coming from the window illuminated those blue eyes, and though he was covered in sweat, he looked even more like an angel. “I’ve loved you for years.”

That was closer.

Aziraphale’s pupils dilated, even with the light reaching him directly.

He took Anthony’s hand in his own and kissed the back of it.

“I’ve loved you all along,” Aziraphale whispered.

Anthony’s eyes filled with tears.

“I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“I heard it. You showed me,” he said, smiling and moving closer to kiss him.

“Are you my boyfriend now?”

“I hope so.”

Anthony’s tears began to roll, quickly watching his face as he embraced and cuddled up to Aziraphale.

“Are you crying?” Aziraphale asked.

“No!” Anthony lied, sobbing.

* * *

Things were pretty good for a long time. Aziraphale’s mother never suspected anything. In fact, when she came to visit him in London, Anathema was in the flat, waiting for Newt, and his mother was very convinced that Anathema was Aziraphale’s secret girlfriend, and began asking about her every time they spoke. So he was safe. But this safety was an illusion, he knew. Safety, for real, would mean acceptance. This was just a temporary peace.

His father helped. Whenever his mother went to London by surprise, his father called in advance, and they’d plan to invite Anathema over. Once they even faked to be caught alone by Mrs. Eaven. She opened the door and Aziraphale moved away from Anathema in a jump, pretending that they were about to kiss.

It was just fun at some point. But still scary, when the future was included in that context.

But the year passed, and Aziraphale went to University. Anthony had postponed all those plans. The floriculture was going well, he had easily paid what he owned to the dealers, and now he was paying Madame Tracy a good rent. They had already discussed the possibility of buying the place, but Madame Tracy said she’d first speak to her deceased husband once she returns from honeymoon.

Aziraphale had organized the books properly in the free part of the shop. People would come in, have a coffee, sit with the books, and buy flowers. The smell of their perfume was very inviting, indeed. But Aziraphale refused to sell them.

He ended up going to the same University that Gabriel went. His brother was still in his mission trip - planning to return by the end of the year, after two years of mission. His return was a constant concern for Aziraphale and Anthony, and they still hadn’t planned what they’d do when it happens.

But his thoughts were focused on his Latin class today. It was the first week in Uni, and he had already heard about how people often fail this class because the teacher was some prick who hates everyone.

When the teacher entered, though, one of the students by his side sighed in relief.

“It’s not Bills again. Dude, you’re so lucky,” he said, turning to Aziraphale.

“It’s not the bad teacher?”

“Last year they went out to do some specialization somewhere. Seems like they haven’t returned yet. Fuck me, at least I won’t fail Latin again.”

“Lucky us, then,” Aziraphale commented. “You failed already?”

“First year I failed, then I didn’t take the class the next year because I thought Bills would be the teacher again, but the fucker simply didn’t appear and I thought that I had lost my chance to pass Latin. But they haven’t returned yet.”

“Shouldn’t the students know how long is their leave?”

“Well, it was supposed to be one year. And we had some rumors, you know. But don’t take them seriously. Bills would never be involved in something remotely close to love. Or good things. They are just pure evil.”

Aziraphale giggled. What kind of person was Bills to provoke such reaction on people?

“Rumors?” he asked, “What, that they ran away to get married?”

“Sort of. There was a student the first time I took this class. I think Bills was only surpassed in ‘dickness’ by this dude. What a huge pain in the ass. And stupid too. But people started saying they were secretly dating. Which is ridiculous, the dude was super homophobic, transphobic, whatever phobic you wanna call him.”

“That’s terrible,” Aziraphale said. “Why would anyone think they were dating?”

“Well, the first day of class, this dude was already a dick. Clearly he wanted to annoy Bills because he heard of their fame. When Bills entered the class, the guy asked if Bills was a woman or a man. Bills said  _ neither.  _ And the guy laughed and asked what they have between their legs.”

“What? This is outrageous!”

“Bills said  _ are you interested in what I have between my legs? _ ”

Aziraphale opened his mouth and then started laughing. When other students eyed him, he covered his mouth.

“That’s not all,” said the student, quite into his own story now, “but the guy asked if Bills was gay or straight or a lesbian.”

“And Bills?”

“Again asked if he was interested. The guy got pissed and said nothing. But the provoking continued during all the classes. We thought Bills was going to kick him off his class, make his life a living nightmare. Because the dude just kept getting more and more annoying. People who weren’t even in the class started coming to watch them provoke each other.”

“So they were having fun with it, then.”

“It looked like that, yes. But within one month or two, the guy started using the right pronouns with Bills. They were still annoying each other, but it seemed like the guy respected Bills, because the provoking regarding Bill’s gender stopped.”

“And how did it end?”

“The guy graduated and left Uni. Bills went on a leave to do some specialization somewhere. People say they were dating and then ran away together.”

“That would be a nice end to the story, wouldn’t it? The man seems to have learned to respect them. And if he fell in love, maybe…”

“I don’t think Bills can fall in love, really. They are a nightmare, I tell ya. And I wouldn’t say anything different about Gabriel either.”

“Gabriel? That’s the guy’s name?”

“Yeah. Gabriel something. Even. Or… I don’t know. Never spoke to him.”

“Eaven?” Aziraphale asked, his heart seeming so shocked by the information that it stopped beating for a moment, “Gabriel Eaven?”

“Yes, probably. Why? You know him?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ineffable bureaucracy makes an appearance on the last minute and Gabriel was a lot worse than previously thought


End file.
